


Final Emblem: Dawn Over a New World

by Cormag_Ravenstaff



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 150,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cormag_Ravenstaff/pseuds/Cormag_Ravenstaff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting fate and those who wish to do harm to others. A simple idea, but carries complicated consequences. The future is not set in stone. It is fluid, malleable to no limit. But if something, or someone, controls that future, what happens to free will? The people of Mira, from Ylisse to Valm, will learn a hard truth. </p><p>Free will comes with a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seize Your Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem. Nor do I own the game this was inspired by, Xenoblade Chronicles. As well, I do not own any other game that I took inspiration from, which includes (But is not limited to), Final Fantasy, Hyrule Warriors, The Last Story, Kingdom Hearts, and The Legend of Zelda. I don't own any book that this fanfic took inspiration from, such as Mistborn or the Night Angel Trilogy. And lastly, I do not own the fanfic from which I came up with this idea, Welcome to Fire Emblem by Jedi SSJ.
> 
> Mirrored from my FFnet account.
> 
> As you can see, this fanfic takes a lot of ideas from various medias. Keep in mind I write fanfiction, and it's my job to blend ideas from games/tv/movies/books/etc. into one seamless story.

**『』**

**Final Emblem: Dawn Over an Old World**

**『』**

_There were two gods at the beginning of time._

_Grima, god of destruction._

_And Naga, god of creation._

_Two halves of a whole. Together, they created Mira, a world for them to rule._

_And for a time, peace existed._

_Eons passed, and unrest spread. Creation could not exist alongside Destruction in harmony._

_So Naga attacked her counterpart in hopes to destroy him and be the one and only god of Mira, the loving mother of creation, goddess of Mira._

_Little did she know, that without Destruction, chaos would reign._

_Plants never died._

_Animals never died._

_Humans never died._

_Life endured. Life suffered._

_Grima, knowing this, used his power to restore order to the world. But he did not stop there._

_Grima used his power fight Naga back._

_The two engaged in a timeless conflict. They fought for the future, the Avvenire. And for the past, the Prima._

_On Mira, those of free will were torn between which god to worship and follow. And as is natural of those who have free will, the opposing sides went to war with each other._

_The two gods were not ignorant of this. To their respective side they granted unimaginable powers to stop the other._

_Two swords were forged. One sword of the future: the Avvenire, and one of the past: the Prima. One for each champion on each side._

_Battles were fought. Wars were waged. And the conflict never died. For how do you crush belief when you know your god exists?_

_Both sides found no easy victories. Until Naga finally struck down Grima and sealed him away._

_She couldn't destroy him, for she needed the power of Destruction for balance in Mira._

_And for the next several millennia, life prevailed. It forgot everything that had happened. It forgot all but their god, Naga._

_But life would not be so easily subdued. For there would come a time, when those of free will would challenge those they called gods..._

**『』**

**Chapter 1  
Seize Your Destiny**

**『』**

Matthew lounged on the elegant couch and sighed in relaxation. The room was lit by the sun streaming in through the windows. Fancy furniture and rugs ordained the room. The guild's headquarters were spared no luxury.

Across from the couch, a woman leaning against the wall gave him a look, "You know Anna is going to yell at you for laying on that couch, don't you?"

Matthew shrugged, "Yeah. That's why I'm enjoying it while I can."

The woman, Cath, only chuckled and went back to staring out the window of the second floor. Matthew eyed her, studying her closely. His sister seemed bothered by something.

"You alright?" Matthew asked.

"You really shouldn't antagonize her so much," Cath spoke quietly. "It's thanks to her we're even alive today."

Matthew nodded. When Matthew and Cath had been ten and eight respectively, they were orphans. Anna took them in and raised the two like her own family.

The two turned as footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Leila opened the door that was adjacent to the common room the two siblings were in, "Anna sent me to fetch you two. We've got a client."

Cath stood up first while Matthew groaned in frustration about having to give up his comfy spot. Cath was quite short compared to her brother, and other women to that matter. The orange haired woman who kept her hair in a makeshift ponytail wore a white and green dress of sorts. A belt at the waist made the dress look more like a shirt and skirt rather than a dress however. Said dress was also sleeveless, but Cath compensated by wearing green gloves that extended almost all the way to her shoulders. Long green stockings of sorts covered her legs and brown boots were worn on top of them. Around her neck was a blue scarf that hung behind her waving loosely. "Quit complaining, Matthew," his sister, Cath said. "We haven't had a client in a while. Our guild needs this."

"Yeah, yeah," Matthew mumbled, standing up. Matthew stood taller than most with a common color of brown hair. That, combined with his lean, albeit muscular build, made him a model thief for the guild. He had a red cloak that's collar extended upward to the chin, as well as a green sleeveless shirt that was only covered by a belt on his waist. The cloak was lined with a number of leather straps were Matthew to fasten it, but the brown haired man chose not to, except the top two around his neck. Matthew also wore tan pants with green boots that came close to his knees.

"Oi!" shouted a voice from down the stairs. "We don't have all day! Time is money, and you're wasting both!"

"I'll go let her know we're coming," Cath said as she practically flew down the stairs. Matthew figured one of these days she'd fall and Anna would have to heal a broken bone.

"We really don't have all day," Leila smirked. Leila stood shorter than Matthew, a good six inches at least. A pale green cloak of sorts covered her shoulders, but only reached down to her thighs. It was tied around her neck with a tight knot. She wore a purple shirt with short sleeves that also exposed some of her cleavage. Along with a long light purple skirt which included a belt that held her rapier, Leila had leggings that exposed a significant portion of her thighs which made thigh sheaths optimal due to lack of interference. Her boots were a light brown color and she had tattoos running down her right arm of swirls and shapes that meant nothing to the average eye, only to her. Her red-purple hair was what Matthew found most striking about her.

"Can't blame a man for trying to relax," Matthew grinned.

"You really haven't done anything today that warrants relaxation," Leila frowned. The two began to walk down the stairs towards the main floor of the building where their guild was housed. Matthew shrugged and didn't answer.

The main floor was a receiving area for clients who came to request their guild's services. It was furnished similarly as the upstairs was, giving an impression that the guild was well off. Anna's guild was smaller than most, having only the four of them. But the fact that half of them were Mantled meant all the difference. Guilds were usually made up of Mantled and regular people, and they existed so people could hire them to perform tasks. The more Mantled a guild had, the more expensive.

"Finally!" Anna said, more than a little annoyed. Anna was the only woman Matthew had met who was exactly as tall as him. Her red hair was tied into a pony tail that reached her mid-back. She wore a simple red dress that reached her feet. Said dress had two slits down both of the sides, allowing for battle capabilities. The dress covered her completely, not showing any skin except her hands themselves. It even extended into a turtle neck. It was Anna's clothing of choice when she didn't need to seduce a man into doing something.

The four took their seats in the four posh chairs that were arranged to face the one chair that clients would sit in. Anna sat in the most regal of the four, and the remaining three were for the others. In the client's chair, a man dressed in armor sat nervously. His brown hair slightly obscured his baby face. At his belt, a sword was sheathed. It was a commoner's sword, and the man was a common knight.

"Start of by telling us your name," Anna instructed.

"I'm Stahl," said the man with surprising conviction. He seemed to startle himself with it.

"And why are you here?" Anna continued.

"Something of mine was stolen," Stahl began. "Actually…it wasn't really mine. It was my mother's, but she can't do anything about it due to her age."

"Who stole it?" Leila inquired, leaning forward.

"A tax collector," Stahl said, his hands forming fists. "My mother had the proper amount of gold, but the collector took a fancy to a jewel necklace and took it instead. Not only was it worth more than she owed, but my late father had given it to her."

"Do you know where it is?" Anna asked.

"The royal treasury," Stahl said, a tinge of hopelessness entering his voice. "I know that it seems like an impossible task—"

"We'll do it," Anna said quickly.

"What?" Stahl said, taken aback. "Y-you're agreeing that easily?"

"Our Mantles make us uniquely suited for an infiltration task," Leila said, a slight grin. Matthew allowed himself a small smile, and he saw Cath grin just the same. Neither meant it though. The two of them didn't possess Mantles. Not everyone was so fortunate to have an incredible power.

"You guys really have Mantles? I know they say the members of guilds have them, but it's a little hard to believe," Stahl said, scratching his head. "No one in my division has one, of course. All I've heard are stories."

Anna shrugged, "It can't hurt to give you a bit of an explanation. I'd estimate that probably five percent of people in Mira have a Mantle. It makes sense that no one you know has one, since they're rather uncommon."

"Is it true that some people can get a Mantle after age thirteen? They manifest at age thirteen, everyone knows that. But one guy in my division said that even after the age you can get one," Stahl asked eagerly. It was natural for someone to be excited for the prospect of getting a Mantle. If someone had a Mantle, they were guaranteed success in life.

"It is," Anna said, nodding in confirmation. "They're what we call Snap-Mantles. Sometimes the Mantle is buried inside of a person, and only severe stress or emotional pain can make you Snap. You'd get your Mantle, but chances are you're close to dying or someone close to you is dead."

"Ah," Stahl said, looking less excited.

"No one knows where Mantles come from," Leila mused. "Some say the Mantled are the chosen of Naga." Matthew inwardly rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't a big believer of religion. "Others say that long ago a group of people had the power and now their blood runs through the veins of today's Mantled."

"What are your Mantles?" Stahl asked, curiously. When he saw the four exchange a look, the knight became flustered, "That is, if it isn't impolite to ask."

"No, it isn't," Anna said slowly. "But generally we choose not to discuss our Mantles in case the guards come after us. What we do  _is_ illegal sometimes. Though because you're our client, it's understandable you want to know."

"And we can always hunt you down and kill you if you talk to the wrong people," Cath said cheerfully, leaning back in the chair.

Matthew hid his laughter with a cough. Anna sent a chiding glare towards Cath and Leila rolled her eyes at Matthew.

Anna turned her attention back to Stahl. She stared at him for a moment, making sure he was watching. Then she vanished.

"Holy—!" Stahl said, jumping up from his chair.

Anna reappeared, "They call my type of Mantle a Ghost. I can turn invisible."

Leila piped up, "I'm a Nightwatch. I can see through the dark as if it were day time."

"Amazing," Stahl murmured. He turned to Cath and Matthew, "What are yours?"

Matthew shook his head, "We don't have Mantles." Matthew couldn't help but inwardly feel depressed. He often imagined what it would be like to have a Mantle, and Cath probably did too.

"Anyway," Anna said, standing up. "It has been a pleasure. We'll contact you when we have the necklace. Payment upon delivery."

"Here's a sketch of it," Stahl said helpfully, handing a piece of paper to Anna. He bowed slightly to them, and left through the front door of the building.

"Grab your weapons," Anna ordered. "We're going to take care of this tonight. If we get in without a hitch, I may even let you guys pick out something you like from the treasury."

Matthew and Cath cheered. Leila only shook her head, though a fond smile was on her face.

**『』**

Ylisstol.

The capital city of Ylisse possessed a simplicity to it while still being beautiful. The majority of the houses were made out of grey stone, and the roofs and everything inside were typically made of wood. Each house was very box shaped, allowing for houses to be squished together in order to fit more. In some cases, there would be buildings three, and sometimes even four stories high! Where four streets would intersect, there was usually either a fountain or a large ether lamp. Ether lamps lined the city, and you could never escape their light unless you were in one of the grassy parks inside the city. The castle rose above all the other buildings significantly.

The streets themselves were busy. At any time of the day, men and women walked to and fro going this way and that way. Ylisstol was never silent.

"Why did you agree to this job so easily?" Matthew asked, keeping up in stride with Anna as the four of them walked towards the castle. "That man, Stahl, can't pay us much. You of all people should be concerned with that."

"I need to get into the treasury," Anna stated firmly.

"Why?" Cath asked from behind Matthew.

Anna looked at the three of them hesitantly, "There's…something I need to get. Something that's locked away into the treasury that shouldn't be."

"Okay, what is it?" Matthew asked impatiently.

Anna remained silent and shook her head. Matthew sighed and let the matter drop. Their boss usually was secretive with certain matters. She'd eventually tell them, and Matthew had learned to let Anna tell them in her own time.

"Do we have a plan of entry?" Leila asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Yes," Anna smirked. "And you're all going to hate it."

**『』**

Emmeryn looked out the window, lost in her thoughts. She knew what today meant. It was the day where everything would change.

The Queen of Ylisse only hoped she had prepared enough.

Emmeryn stood taller than most women, but not nearly as high as some of her guards. She wore a regal robe that graced her shoulders with cover and extended down to just above the bottoms of her feet. Her long fair blond hair extended to her mid back and came down in matching braids of sorts to her breasts on her front. She wore long green skin tight stockings that reach her knees along with delicate green shoes that had never seen a day outside the castle. In the center of her forehead was a tattoo of the mark of Naga backed by her pale skin.

The Queen reached over and grabbed the staff that stood next to her bedside. Emmeryn took one last moment to appreciate her room. Crimson carpeted floors, silk drapes over the windows, a bed made of the most expensive wood…

All of it would be gone before the day ended. Gone for her, at least.

Clutching the Warp staff tighter subconsciously, Emmeryn took a deep breath. "I can do this," she whispered. "I am Queen. I am no peasant quivering under the burden of their duty."

There was a knock at her door and a man spoke, "Milady? Are you ready?"

Emmeryn took one last mourning glance around and sighed, "Indeed, I am ready."

The door opened fully and Lloyd looked in and asked, "Is everything alright, your highness?"

"I am fine, Lord General," Emmeryn said as she approached him. Lord General Lloyd was much taller than her. With that, his brown hair, and light stubble, Lloyd looked several years older than his actual age. Though even if his enemies knew his age, they'd still be hesitant to approach. Lloyd's overall black attire sent the message he wanted sent, that he wasn't someone to trifle with. The longcoat clung to his body tightly, the high collar obscuring some of his face when viewed from the side. Around his waist he had a strip of red cloth tied that hung down slightly. Lloyd wore it for style, but also for the ease of wiping blood off his weapon after use. His Estoc was attached to his belt that also was around his waist. The blade was thin, much like a rapier. But where a rapier was for stabbing, an Estoc was for slashing.

"As you say, milady," Lloyd bowed.

Emmeryn and Lloyd walked towards the throne room. Lloyd stood at attention as he walked and Emmeryn stared at the floor lost in thought.

Was she ready for what was to come?

The Queen truly did not know. But she knew what was in store for her, her Mantle had shown her that much.

**『』**

" _This_  was your idea?" Cath said as the four faced a circular well in the alley way that broke off from the street. Said alley was littered with trash and grime.

"We're going in through the sewers," Anna reiterated. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Besides the fact that it's disgusting? No problem at all," Matthew said sarcastically. Anna pried open the metal grate that covered the top of the well. Thankfully, the stone was not anywhere close to good condition, and it crumbled away easily. Anna tied a rope to a heavy stone she pulled off and anchored said stone next to the well. Anna then jumped down the hole first, followed by Leila.

"There has got to be another way," Cath said, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Unfortunately, even if there is, I doubt we're going to go there now," Matthew said lightly.

"Way to be a pessimist, brother," Cath muttered darkly.

"Love you too!" Matthew chuckled as he climbed into the hole and dropped down.

His vision was immediately met with darkness. Thankfully, he had landed on a dry surface, or at least something that wasn't submerged in water.

Behind him, Cath jumped down and the echo of her boots hitting the ground resonated throughout the sewer tunnels.

Anna drew an ether torch out of the small pack she had on her back. She brought a hand up to the ether crystal mounted on the top and whispered, " _Ardeo._ " The tip of the torch glowed brightly, shedding red colored light on the setting.

"Leila, lead the way," Anna said. Leila walked forward confidently without paying any attention to the torch. Her Mantle let her see in the dark. She described it as seeing the world as if it were constantly the middle of the day. Shadows didn't exist to her.

The four walked in silence, three of them using the torch to ensure they didn't miss a step. They trusted Leila to lead them the right way, but the other three could still fall victim to slipping or tripping.

Something skittered at Matthew's feet. He looked down and through the torchlight he could see a rat running across his feet.

"I do not understand how that doesn't bother you," Cath said, visibly twitching each time a rat crawled near her.

"They're just rats," Matthew shrugged. "It's not like they're Fiends."

"I'm just glad we have the city walls to keep Fiends out. Imagine if they began running amok in the city!" Cath said, laughing slightly.

"Then all the guilds would have a payday," Anna chuckled. "We'd all get called out to protect to civilians. We would become united and fight as one."

"Like that would ever happen," Leila called back to them.

Anna sighed, "It could work. If the guilds united and became a singular guild, think of all the opportunities! There'd be no interguild wars or questions as to where a Mantled could and should work. We'd finally achieve what the guilds were meant for, helping the people."

"The big guilds do well enough as they are. They'd never work together," Matthew reminded her.

"Besides," Cath argued, "we've got a great reputation comparative to some guilds. This is how competition works. Some people value paying higher and getting more out of their gold."

"We're here," Leila said, interrupting their conversation as she stopped.

In front of them was a ladder. It was worn and rusty. Clearly, it hadn't seen much care over the years. Or at all.

"Up there is the castle," Anna explained. "Once we get inside, I'll get oriented and guide us to the treasury."

Anna knew the layout of the castle quite well. With her Mantle, she could go anywhere she wanted. She began to climb the ladder, "I'll be back in ten minutes. Be ready."

**『』**

Emmeryn walked into the throne room, trailing behind Lloyd. The room was a long hall, grand doors at one end and a regal throne at Emmeryn's end. The Queen broke off from Lloyd's side and sat on the throne.

Lloyd stood on Emmeryn's left, standing in front of the steps that elevated the throne off the ground. To her right, was Emmeryn's other body guard, Marisa. The two of them kept her safe in place of a score of men and women. The Queen felt safer with these two than any number of men. Marisa had a Mantle and Lloyd was the best fighter in the kingdom who didn't have a Mantle.

"My Queen," Marisa said and knelt as Emmeryn took her position. Where Lloyd was the Lord General and commanded Ylisse's armies, Marisa was the Mantled General. She had the highest rank a commoner could attain, a Mantle, and was one of the most powerful people in Ylisse. Marisa's job was to be a personal guard to the Queen as well as directing armies. The Mantled General also served as the Queen's advisor about Mantles and Mantled affairs.

"Rise," Emmeryn commanded with a small smile. The Mantled General was taller than her liege. A good quality to have, for a bodyguard and General. The General's clothes were a pink color, deep like the colors of a sunset and unlike her lighter shaded hair. Her battle attire, which she wore every day, was a longcoat much like Lloyd's. The coat was clean and in better condition than Lloyd's, and was left hanging open, exposing the General's legs. It also had a long slit in the back of the longcoat between her legs, allowing for maximum maneuverability.

Her legs, of course, were armored. As were shoulders and arms. Her hands themselves were bare, and a section of her upper right arm was bear, only covered by a metal bangle that circled her bicep. Instead of a pink shirt, which some might expect of her, the General wore a tight leather piece of armor on her chest that was black and left the sides of her bear while still covering her back. It accentuated her rather large chest and provided ample protection in battle. And finally, a wicked Flamberge hung at her side, waiting to be drawn.

"Lord General," Emmeryn spoke, turning to Lloyd. "Find Baroness Lowell and bring her here. And alert the Hands that I wish to speak with three of them."

"As you wish, milady," Lloyd bowed. He turned and left, the sound of his boots growing smaller as he neared the large doors leaving the throne room.

Emmeryn sighed and slouched in the throne. If anyone were to see her, they'd have a fit. Except for Marisa, she never said anything critical towards her Queen.

The Queen's mind was in turmoil. She wanted to tell someone, anyone about what was to come. If Emmeryn could warn the guard, or the parts of the army within Ylisstol, perhaps they could save lives?

Yes, lives would be saved. But Emmeryn had seen what was to come, as well as what might come to pass if she made certain choices. And this needed to happen. Unfortunately.

"Marisa, do you have a report from the Ruins of Animas?" Emmeryn asked, hoping to take her mind off the inner conflict occurring within her.

The Ruins of Animas were located on the Plegian border, the country adjacent to Ylisse. The Ruins were a sight of battle where a holy battle had been fought for the Goddess Naga. History had no account of who Naga was fighting, but the effects of the battle were great. It had left the entire area scarred with chasms and canyons.

The Ruins were also the sight of the current war between Ylisse and Valmese occupied Plegia. Valm, the continent across the sea, had invaded Plegia nearly two years ago. After a bloody war, the Valmese finally ascertained control over the desert nation. And now the pushed east into Ylisse.

"General Hugh says that they are at a stalemate," Marisa said in a quiet but firm voice. "He thinks it could still go either way, milady."

"What's your opinion on the situation?" Emmeryn asked, leaning forward and folding her hands.

"Permission to speak freely, your highness?" Marisa asked hesitantly.

"Granted."

"General Hugh is a pretentious idiot," snarled Marisa. "He thinks he can win by whittling down the Valmese numbers. Hugh doesn't have the capability or skill to fight in a location like the Ruins. I think we should send either myself or Lloyd there. Then the situation would be resolved while the Valmese are still busy putting down resistance and dealing with Ferox."

Regna Ferox was Ylisse and Plegia's northern border. It was bigger than both of the countries combined, and known for its snowy climate and brutal warriors. The Valmese planned to invade there next while a token force distracted the Ylisseans at their border.

"While their main army is massing in northern Plegia, we should strike through," Marisa continued. "We could take the capital Carestia and unite with the Plegians and fight Valm."

Emmeryn nodded, "We will speak of this later today with General Lloyd. I am tempted to agree with you."

Marisa bowed respectfully, "You are most wise, my liege."

The silence between the two would have continued, but Lloyd interrupted them as he opened the grand doors. They squeaked loudly as the opened, causing Emmeryn to cringe. She'd have to get someone to oil them.

"Milady, Baroness Heather Lowell is here to see you," Lloyd said and stood out of the way.

Heather was taller than the average woman. Not absurdly tall, but enough that it was noticeable. Her golden hair descended down her shoulders. It would have obscured parts of her face as well, but Heather wore a white strip of cloth around her upper forehead to keep the hair out of her eyes. She wore a high collar, long-sleeved tunic, the sleeves being a light purple color and the rest being a dark shade of the same color. But instead of the tunic stretching to her legs, it ended high up at her hips like a skirt. The tunic left a large portion of her cleavage exposed, having only a few strings to tie the large V together. To make up for the shortness of the tunic, a long waist cape that was the same color of the tunic proper, met the ground.

At her neck, wrapped snugly around, was a blue scarf that extended down her back and wafted in the wind. Around her waist were two belts, crossing in an X. The first was a bulky brown one, meant for carrying heavy things such as her sword or knife. The next was a dainty pale pink one that Emmeryn most likely suspected was for carrying poisons. At her legs, stockings extended up to almost where the tunic stopped. White boots reached up to her kneecaps. They were clean and looked almost brand new.

Emmeryn watched closely as Heather approached the throne. The woman was her favorite vassal. "Your highness, long is the day that I do not get the opportunity to gaze upon your beauty," Heather said as she knelt in front of the throne.

The fair haired Queen smiled at Heather's compliment. The Baroness was always willing to give compliments to women, especially Emmeryn.

"General Lloyd, General Marisa, Heather and myself shall be in the private counsel room. We are not to be disturbed, understood?" Emmeryn said, making eye contact with the two of them. "Alert me when the Hands show up."

"Of course, milady," Lloyd said.

**『』**

"Come on," Anna said. Matthew heard her voice before he saw her. The redhead reappeared, her head sticking down through the square opening that the ladder reached down from.

"Is it far?" Matthew asked as he scaled the ladder, noiselessly leaving the sewer.

"Not too far," Anna replied as Cath reciprocated her brother's actions. Leila followed shortly and replaced the square tile that Anna had displaced. " _Desine,"_  Leila spoke, and the ether crystal torch faded, no longer shedding any light.

Anna began to walk quietly. "This way," she said, creeping down a hallway.

The castle, or at least the part they were in, was not too impressive. White stones lined the hallways and mounted torches served as light due to the lack of windows. But the walls were dusty and the floor was marked with dirt. Clearly the cleaning staff didn't frequent the area often, or ever.

The three followed her down the corridor. Before long, Anna stopped them at an intersection. She gestured down one of the hallways. A large door was on the further wall from them, and two guards stood watch outside the door.

Or at least, they would have had they not been lying on the ground, unconscious.

"A maid delivered them a meal," Anna explained. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity, so I drugged them." She looked pleased with that fact that she took advantage of the opportunity.

The four approached the door. "Matthew, do your thing," Anna commanded. Matthew walked up to door and examined the keyhole. Understandably, it was quite complex. The brown haired man drew a thin knife out of the back of his belt. He stuck the blade inside the keyhole and moved it around.

Satisfied with what he heard, Matthew sheathed the knife and removed a lockpick set tailored for the type of lock Matthew deduced it to be. Fiddling around with the anchor and pick, Matthew began to work.

Three minutes later, Matthew had the lock open. He stood up from his crouched position and nodded to Anna. The red clad woman pushed open the dual doors.

Cath gasped behind him, and Matthew didn't blame her.

The room was glowing. Ether torches were mounted on the walls, and the light reflected on the gold and jewels in a blinding way. In no way was the room similar to the rest of the castle Matthew had seen so far.

"Now this isn't the main treasury," Anna said as she walked inside. "That is filled with gold coins and worthless valuable treasure. This is where jewels, artifacts and anything magical goes." Anna stopped in the middle of the somewhat large room and continued, "Leila, find the necklace. Cath, Matthew, follow me."

Leila set off with the drawing Stahl had given them. The siblings trailed behind Anna as she walked to the back wall of the room. Once Anna got there, she began to feel the wall, specifically its stones.

Cath and Matthew exchanged a look, each of them wondering if their boss had gone mad.

"There!" Anna exclaimed, pressing a stone that touched the ground. Matthew heard a strange sound as the wall began to slide apart. Their boss had apparently triggered some sort of mechanism that opened the secret door.

The small alcove that had opened revealed a dark room. There were no torches in this room, only dust and darkness.

Anna raised their torch and spoke, " _Ardeo."_ The red light washed the room.

Matthew now could see a sword mounted on a pedestal. The elegant blade was something out of a story. The blade was a ghostly white. The only vibrant color on the sword was the red gem mounted into the guard. Said guard was curved upwards, similar to waves on the ocean.

"Take that sword, Matthew," Anna commanded. "I'm going to go check on Leila."

Matthew grasped the hilt of the sword. Immediately, he turned cold. It was as if his blood had turned to ice. The red cloaked man gasped audibly as he tried to release his grip on the sword, only to find that he couldn't.

"Matthew?" Cath questioned, confused.

_He was in another place completely._

_Everything was cold, as if all the life had been sapped out of the scene in front of him. Color was almost non-existent, only faint shades prevailing through the vaguely blue filter Matthew's eyes seemed to have._

_Matthew focused on the image in front of him. The brown haired man was standing in the biggest street in Ylisstol. Except where there should have been life and people mingling, there was only flames. Houses, shops, everything nearby was consumed by the blaze._

_Soldiers garbed in unfamiliar uniforms marched up and down the street, engaging in fights here and there. Some civilians tried to run, but they were cut down by the soldiers. Ylissean soldiers tried to fight them off, their blue uniforms meeting the red in battle. But it was no use as they were killed everywhere._

_Matthew was abruptly in a different place. He now stood in a grassy clearing within the city. Flames still rose from some of the buildings around him. They even began to reach the park that Matthew was currently in._

_The brown haired man was fighting the kind of soldiers he'd seen earlier with Cath and Leila. Anna however, was dueling a man in blue with long black hair. Matthew turned his head so as to get a better look at what was happening around him._

_Anna stumbled back after the two clashed swords again. It seemed as though they had been dueling a while. The man spun his red katana in his hand and stabbed Anna in the chest._

_Matthew froze, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Then everything flashed blue._

"Matthew?" Cath repeated, staring at him with a puzzled expression.

He gasped, coming back to where he was at the present moment. "What just…?" Matthew said, feeling out of breath even though he had plenty of breath in his lungs.

"You zoned out for a moment there after you grabbed the sword," Cath said. "It was only for a second, but you looked startled."

"I…have no idea what happened," Matthew responded honestly.

"Did the sword shock you or something?" Cath asked, rolling her eyes.

Matthew nodded distractedly. What was that he saw? It had been vivid enough that he remembered every moment of it. But why had he seen it? How could Ylisstol be in flames? And Anna…

The brown haired man shook his head roughly, surely it had all been him imagining. The dust in the room probably got his mind muddled.

Then Matthew glanced at his hand. On his right hand, he had a tattoo of a square turned on its point with four pointed shapes branching out from each corner.

That hadn't been there before.

**『』**

"I thought you hated this room," Heather said as she closed the door behind her Queen.

"I do," Emmeryn breathed. "But it has its uses besides being the place where people are free to insult me as they wish." Emmeryn and Heather each sat in a simple wooden chair within the small room.

"Do you at least insult them back?" Heather asked. The counsel room was traditionally where kings met with other kings and nobles and were free to discuss without formality. King Marth had had it built thousands of years ago, and his word was law, even to this day.

"No, I am a Queen. Not a damn harlot, as they like to call me," Emmeryn said, a touch of bitterness entering her voice.

"Who said that?" Heather growled. "I'll make sure they never say that again, mark my words."

"Don't worry about it," Emmeryn waved the topic away with a gesture of her hand. "We have more important things to discuss."

"Such as?" Heather leaned forward in her chair.

"First, I must know something. Are you willing to follow my words without any form of proof that what I say is true?" Emmeryn asked.

"Of course, Emm," Heather said, reaching out to grasp the Queen's hand. Emmeryn smiled at the nickname that Heather addressed her by. Only Chrom and Lissa did that anymore.

"I am one of your Hands, after all," Heather said indignantly. She reached up to the scarf that was wrapped snugly around her neck and pushed it aside. On her left breast, directly over her heart was the same tattoo that was on Emmeryn's forehead. Only it was pure black, and carried a much different meaning.

The Hands were Ylisse's most devoted servants. A league of spies, thieves and assassins, they served only the one on the throne of Ylisse. Each generation of rulers had their own set of Hands, and each Hand served with absolute loyalty. Incorruptible, deadly and devoted.

"Indeed," Emmeryn said, a smile on her face. "Then of course, I shall trust you will do as I say."

"By my life, or my death, it will be done," Heather swore.

"I am a Dreamseer, as you know," Emmeryn began. Dreamseer was a type of Mantle, and with it Emmeryn's dreams were visions of the future. She'd Seen this day for many years. The fire, the soldiers, she'd Seen it all. "Later today, Valm shall launch a surprise attack on the city. They will crush us."

"How?" Heather asked in disbelief.

"Some form of warp magic," Emmeryn said. "They've figured out how to send groups of people at unimaginable distances."

Heather nodded, accepting her Queen's word. "What will you have me do?" Heather said.

"Many people need to escape the city today," Emmeryn said. "You are one of them. Go to Mount Prism. Inside the mountain is a weapon. It is a sword of awesome power. Wait at the village before going in until the man in red comes. He will escort you through the labyrinths of the mountain. Then you are to return to Ylisstol."

"As you command, my Queen," Heather said. She stood up and knelt in front of Emmeryn.

"Are you ready to go right now?" Emmeryn asked, gesturing to her Warp Staff.

Heather's eyes widened. But she nodded none the less, "I am always ready for your commands."

"This will get you outside the city. I trust you can make your way from village to village on your own," Emmeryn said.

The Hand nodded again and let Emmeryn raise the staff in front of her. " _Commoveo,"_ Emmeryn spoke, her voice laced with magic. A circle of white runes appeared around Heather's kneeling form. Then a bright flash of light appeared.

When Emmeryn's eyes cleared, Heather was gone.

**『』**

"It's called the Avvenire," Anna said as Matthew handed her the sword. Anna looked as if she were about to say something else about the sword before she went on to say, "Leila's got the necklace, so we better get moving."

The four left the treasury and shut the door behind them. With some quick work from Matthew and Cath, they managed to relock the door and make it appear untouched. It was as if they had never even been there. With Leila in the lead, the four traveled down the dark corridors towards the sewer passageway.

"So why did we break into the castle to steal a sword hidden behind a wall?" Cath asked.

"The sword is extremely valuable and important. It'll fetch a pretty price," Anna explained, though hesitation clouded her tone.

Matthew shook his head, subconsciously taking a glance at his now tattooed hand, "Liar. We didn't walk through a sewer and break into a treasury simply because we could sell this thing. There's something you're not saying, I know you well enough to know that."

Anna stiffened, but regained her composure almost instantly, "I'm not lying."

Leila shrugged, not caring, "As long as you tell us eventually."

"Agreed," Cath said, itching to get her input in. Matthew shrugged, complying with the other two's comments.

The four got to the tile they had displaced. Thankfully Leila had excellent memory to remember where it had been. One by one, they climbed down the ladder and began to make their way to other end of the sewer.

Little did they know, that when they emerged, everything would change.

**『』**

The Queen of Ylisse emerged from the counsel room alone. When she received the questioning stares from both of her Generals, she replied, "I sent Baroness Lowell on a mission. I merely warped her out of the city."

Before either General could reply, the great doors to the throne room opened. Three black clad figures walked in, their faces obstructed by the hoods of their cloaks.

The Hands.

Like Heather, each Hand had a tattoo over their heart of Emmeryn's forehead tattoo. That was the only way to identify them as Hands. When they reported for assignments, they masked themselves such as they did now. Their identities were their defense, and only Emmeryn knew them.

The three knelt in front of her without saying a word, as per usual. Emmeryn was about to open her mouth and begin issuing orders when a strange sound touched her ears.

A siren.

"So it has begun," the Queen whispered to herself.

Through the open doors, a guard came running. He looked absolutely shaken, scared out of his mind. "Your majesty," he shouted. "We're under attack! They showed up from out of nowhere!"

"What?" Lloyd asked, flabbergasted.

"Some form of warp magic, m'lord," the out of breath guard said.

"Milady," Lloyd drew his estoc and stood near her.

"We need to leave. Now," Marisa said in an authoritative voice. "If they showed up out of nowhere, they might get here too." She drew her flamberge.

The three Hands all drew knives, one in each hand. They began to form a rear guard for Emmeryn before she stopped them, "One of you is to go make sure my brother Chrom is escaping. The other two must go save Lissa, she won't be able to get out on her own."

The three black clad Hands bowed and raced off.

"They should be protecting Ylisse's Queen," Lloyd said quietly.

"Enough chat," Marisa said. "Let's go."

The two longcoated Generals stood in front of Emmeryn as they began to move out the dual doors. Even though the fighting wasn't in their vicinity, they could hear the clashing of swords. "Naga almighty," breathed Emmeryn. "They've got precise enough methods to get inside a building with warp magic?"

"Clearly," Marisa said, bluntly.

They took a left from the doors and began to run as fast as Emmeryn could. Unfortunately, that wasn't all too fast. And then as they turned a corridor, they encountered a group of red decorated soldiers.

Valmese.

The ten soldiers let out a loud war cry and charged forward. Due to the corridor, they were forced to approach in rows of three.

Lloyd had no such problem.

Holding the estoc in one hand, Lloyd stood in front of Emmeryn and Marisa. One soldier charged ahead of the two next to him and swung his sword in a downward diagonal strike. Lloyd's blade met the Valmese's steel and forced the man backward.

While the man was regaining his footing, Lloyd quickly slashed through his crimson armor at the section where the helmet met the breastplate. Blood shot out as the sword passed through the man's larynx.

The nine remaining men stopped charging, startled with their comrade's death sudden death.

"If you want our Queen," Lloyd said, holding his bloody estoc aloft, "you must go through me."

One of the men decided to try his luck and stabbed at Lloyd with a spear. The black longcoat fluttered as Lloyd spun a full rotation and used the momentum to decapitate the soldier.

The Lord General no longer waited for the Valmese to come to him. He flung himself forward and executed a series of complex maneuvers, deflecting every attack sent towards him. One by one, his sword met a soldier's neckline. And one by one, the men fell to the ground, dead.

Soon, the last man remained standing. He hadn't attacked Lloyd yet, not because he was more careful, but because he was scared. The man was actually a boy, probably no more than sixteen years old.

Lloyd stared the boy down, "Will you run?"

With a cry, the red clad boy stabbed at the General with his lance. Lloyd parried the attack with a swish of his estoc. The lance in the boy's hand hit the side of the corridor and Lloyd struck him in the neck, just like the nine previous corpses.

Taking the red rag from his belt, Lloyd wiped his sword down. "We need to go," Lloyd said.

"Understood," Emmeryn said, feeling queasy at the brutal efficiency of the killing.

The three ran down the corridor and arrived at the courtyard. Thankfully, they were on the second level of the castle and were looking down at the courtyard from above. The grassy area had turned into a battlefield. Magic flew back and forth as Ylisseans and Valmese fought to the death.

"Your majesty, we can't linger," Lloyd said, lightly grabbing her arm. Emmeryn nodded and began to resume her pace.

It didn't take them long to reach their destination. The warp room was a simple commodity spread throughout Mira. Every city had several, some large towns had one, and every castle or fort had one.

"We'll watch the door," Lloyd said, taking a position next to the door alongside Marisa.

Emmeryn strolled to the wall. There were several Warp staves mounted on the wall. The Queen selected one and said, "You two, come here. We're escaping together. In case we end up apart, we are all to make our way to the front of the war at the Ruins of Animas, understood?"

Lloyd and Marisa exchanged a look, nodded, and came to the center of the room. They stood on the white circle made of runes and other circles. The magic insignia allowed for warping over massive distances. It was the only way to get from Plegia to Ylisse in a matter of seconds.

Until evidently the Valmese found a different way.

" _Commoveo,"_ Emmeryn spoke, holding the staff aloft. A circle of runes surrounded Lloyd's feet, and he disappeared.

"What are you doing?" Marisa said, her voice turning hard.

"I must do as I have seen," Emmeryn said. She pointed the staff at Marisa and said, " _Commoveo."_

Marisa vanished as well. Emmeryn was on her own.

The Queen sighed, her job being done. Now that her friends were gone, she had new hardship to face. Emmeryn had Seen it, after all.

Selecting a Rewarp staff from the wall, Emmeryn tried to visualize where she needed to go. The Queen didn't know the exact location of where she had to go.

"There she is!"

"Don't let her escape!"

Emmeryn turned towards the door just in time to have an archer's arrow strike her in the shoulder. The Queen screamed in pain, but managed to retain enough sense to shout, " _Commoveo!"_

Emmeryn vanished, just like Lloyd and Marisa.

**『』**

"Do you hear that?" Matthew asked as they approached the well they had jumped down hours before. The other three fell silent and craned their ears.

"It sounds like fighting," Leila muttered. "I'll go first."

Without even waiting to hear the others' opinions, Leila grabbed the rope and climbed it with startling efficiency. Once the redhead was out of the sewer, Anna began to climb the rope as well. But just as she started, a body fell down through the well.

The armor of the man hit the ground with a clang. His red blood blended with his red armor, making Matthew unsure as to where he'd been stabbed.

"You guys better hurry up," Leila said from above. "Something weird is going on. That guy just jumped me."

At that, Anna leapt up the rope with as much ease and speed as Leila had done. Matthew took longer, and Cath took longer still.

What they saw, they could not believe.

The city was in flames. Groups of red clad soldiers ran up and down the streets, fighting Ylisseans every ten paces. The only light in the night sky besides the flames were the ether lamps, but even those were becoming blocked by the thick black smoke.

"What the hell is happening?" Matthew said in disbelief. It looked just like that vision he had. Could he have seen…the future?

"Valmese. We need to move," Anna said. "We'll make for the central clearing, then escape the city through the west wall."

"Understood," three voices echoed in affirmation.

Before they could continue out of the alleyway, three Valmese soldiers ran past the alley and happened to look in their direction. They pointed at them, and charged with swords raised.

Leila took point, drawing her rapier. The silver blade flashed as it parried several strikes from the three. Cath drew a knife and held it in front of herself in defense. Matthew did the same, though he tried to get close to Leila to fight alongside her.

He never got the chance. Anna reappeared from behind the Valmese and cut the three of them down with the Avvenire.

"We go. Now," Anna declared, and began to run into the street. The three others needed no further encouragement as they met her pace and ran with her.

Due to their time as a guild, the four knew the streets well. That prior knowledge helped them evade most of the Valmese, who seemed to stick to the main roads. The few they did encounter, Anna dealt with them like the three earlier.

So it only took about fifteen minutes to reach the central clearing. It was a clearing within the center of the city. About half a mile wide, it was where the city's occupants frequented when needing to relax.

Now, it was wreathed in flames. The grass no longer green, but a brown or black. Trees were alight with fire, like torches in the night.

"Excellent, excellent," a voice called out. "I have been waiting for you to come here, Anna. I knew you would. You always were so…predictable." A man walked out of the smoke and flames. The man in blue had hair longer than any Matthew had ever seen. It complemented the man's crazed expression well. He wore a blue coat made of silk that reached his legs. It was Arulian make, judging by the style. He wore no undershirt, the top of his coat parting to expose a slight V of his chest. Around his waist, a belt hung loosely with a sheath for the man's katana.

"Karel," Anna said in disgust.

The tall man, Karel, walked forward in front of about twenty Valmese soldiers. At his side stood a woman. She had deep blue hair that complemented her purple attire well. The collar of her tunic came an inch straight up. The rest of her tunic left her shoulders bare and part of her upper chest, over her cleavage. The tunic split into two halves along her side, the front and the back as it descended down her legs. Boots stretched up to her knees and gloves reached up to her elbows. Her facial features conveyed a sense of a woman who manipulated and played chess with the lives of men.

"The two in the back, the one with brown hair and the one with orange hair," the woman said, squinting at the four.

"Really? Ursula, it seems today luck is on our side," Karel said, drawing his katana. It was a blood red color.

Anna brought the Avvenire up to a fighting stance. Leila, Matthew and Cath followed suit with their own weapons. As they were about to stand side by side with their boss, Anna held up a hand to stop them

"Karel is a foe beyond any of you," she said gravely. "Leave him to me. Take care of the regular soldiers."

"I sense a challenge," Karel grinned. "And I would be very happy to soak the metal of my sword in your blood. I wonder if it is as red as your hair? What do you think?""

Anna leapt at the man, swinging her blade with a war cry.

Matthew and the other two members of the guild attacked the twenty enemies. Even though they were outnumbered, the three didn't back down.

Part of the reason why they didn't die was Leila. Her Mantle allowed herself to see at night, and is  _was_ night time. Even though the fire illuminated the area, it was not complete visibility.

Matthew blocked a man's sword with his long knife. But before either of them could retaliate, Leila's rapier sprouted out the man's chest with a  _hiss._

Without even pausing, Leila was already on the move, fending off three other soldiers. Matthew and Cath weren't skilled enough to fight several people at once, but they could fight them off until Leila could deal with them.

Slowly, but surely they did so. Both exhausted, Matthew and Leila collapsed to the ground onto their knees. Leila remained on her feet, watching the fight between Karel and Anna.

Matthew had never seen anything like it.

When two Mantled fought, generally it was certain one would die. And Matthew couldn't help but think that when he saw Anna and Karel fighting.

Anna flitted in and out of sight, vanishing from sight every few seconds. Matthew had never seen someone fight as hard as she was.

But Karel somehow knew where every attack would happen. Even as Anna swung her sword, disappearing and reappearing behind Karel, the man in blue knew. He would spin and block her strike or lean out of the way.

"How is he doing that?" Matthew muttered aloud.

"It's his Mantle," Leila said, a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

"But what is it?" Matthew replied.

His question went unanswered. At that moment, Anna reappeared and Karel struck, smashing his blade into hers with crushing force. The redhead stumbled backward. Matthew blinked, the action reminding him of something.

"I've seen this before," he whispered.

"What?" Cath asked, not taking her eyes off the battle.

"Anna!" Matthew shouted. "Watch out for—!"

Karel spun the blade in his hand and stabbed towards Anna with it. The red sword plunged into the red clad woman's stomach.

Anna's body tensed. She screamed, but they were silenced as Karel whipped his sword out from her body and stabbed it into her neck.

"NO!" screamed Matthew and Cath.

"Weak," snarled Karel. "Weak and pathetic." Anna's body fell to the ground, unmoving.

The brown haired man couldn't speak. The woman who had practically raised him and his sister, dead. It wasn't possible. It  _couldn't_ be possible. But…it was. Matthew saw it, and had seen it before when grabbing the sword.

_Make them pay._

The single thought encompassed Matthew's mind. It burned through all other thoughts, emotions and senses. A single purpose in mind, Matthew stood up. Karel had begun to walk away as Matthew reached Anna's body and picked up the Avvenire.

"Are you looking to die, kid?" Karel sneered.

"We will kill you," Matthew said. For a moment, there was an influx in his voice, as if it had become laced with magic. A cold feeling rushed through Matthew's veins, causing him to gasp.

His vision crackled, blazing with gold light. Stunned, the thief fell to the ground, gasping for air.

"You can't even stand and you expect to fight me?" Karel said. "Very well, my sword always hungers for more. Even pathetic weaklings give some satisfaction from killing." Matthew stood up, more slowly this time. He had a feeling he knew what had just happened.

He'd Snapped.

Matthew charged Karel, the Avvenire held in his tattooed hand. He swung the blade at Karel, who blocked like he knew it was coming.

"Idiot, did you see nothing from my duel with Anna?" Karel smirked. "I'm a Timeseer."

"Shit," Matthew said, not realizing he said it aloud. Timeseers could see five seconds into the future. Constantly.

The two began exchanging attacks. Matthew surprised himself, he'd only had basic sword training, and here he was holding off a man who killed the best fighter he knew in a matter of minutes.

The thief stumbled back, just like Anna had done. Matthew focused on a spot behind Karel without realizing it.

Then Matthew was standing where he had focused at.

Karel swore and spun on the spot, his blade streaking across the night. Matthew held up his sword. Their blades met and the two held at a stalemate.

"You damn Vanishers," Karel grunted. "I hate fighting you."

"You won't have to worry about it for long. You won't be alive much longer," Matthew snarled.

"We'll see about that," and with that, Karel jumped back. Matthew expected the blue clad man to slash at him with his sword, but instead he received a kick to the stomach.

There was a flash of light behind the two. From the ground, Matthew looked over to see Leila on the ground, twitching. The woman, Ursula, was holding her hand high as it crackled with electricity.

A bolt of lightning hit Cath, sending her to a similar state as Leila. "Karel," shouted Ursula, "we have what we came for. We must leave."

The man in blue nodded and turned to Matthew, "I hope you have an awful life, kid. Remember, you could have beaten me. That is, if you weren't so weak." He strode over to Ursula who had Cath in her arms. Reaching to a pouch on his belt, Karel grabbed a powder out of said pouch.

"Cath!" shouted Matthew, springing up from the ground as he ran towards his sister.

The powder fluttered in the air as Karel let go of it. A white circle surrounded his and Ursula's feet. And in an instant, they vanished.

**『』**

_The next morning…_

The next morning, Matthew sat on the couch he had lounged upon the previous day. No longer was there mirth or cheer in his expression. Only pain, and anger.

Anna was dead. Cath kidnapped.

"What are you going to do?" Leila asked, leaning on the doorframe. "You'll have to decide quickly. The Valmese haven't taken full control of the city, but they will soon."

What would he do?

_Make them pay._

The thought that had caused him to Snap the previous night returned. Revenge. And saving Cath.

"I'm going after them," Matthew swore. "I will kill Karel, even if I have to chase him all the way to Valm."

Leila smirked, "Sounds like a plan. We'll need to get moving."

"You aren't going to stop me?" Matthew asked, surprised.

"Anna was my friend too," Leila said. "I may not have known her as long as you or Cath, but she was one of my only friends. And we cannot leave Cath to whatever fate awaits her in Valm."

"Will you help me with this too?" Matthew asked, vanishing and reappearing two feet away.

"I'll do what I can. Now, are you ready to hunt some Valmese scum?" a feral grin appearing on Leila's face.

Matthew drew the strange sword, the Avvenire. He had seen the future yesterday. It was the only possibility the Vanisher could think of. He would figure out how and why, so he could prevent it next time.

"What was it Anna always used to say?" Leila asked after Matthew nodded.

"Seize your destiny," Matthew said without hesitation.

"Indeed," Leila nodded. She tied the short cape that was in her hands around her neck. "Let's seize our destinies."


	2. Going Our Own Ways

**Chapter 2  
Going Our Own Ways**

**『』**

The first thing Marisa became aware of was the ground pressed against her head. As she flicked her eyes open, the General found herself laying on the dusty ground.

Marisa stood up and analyzed her surroundings. She was in a dead forest, the trees' whitened bark pealing off like sun burnt skin. Yellowed grass grew sporadically around the trees. The scene was complete with a gray sky that thundered in the distance.

And a small child with brown hair clad in a simple yellow dress stood in front of her. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. The pink haired General stared at the girl, not moving a muscle.

"You fell out of the sky," stated the child.

Did she really? Marisa supposed that was why her whole body ached. Damn Warp spells. The General thought they were supposed to bring her to a similar glyph in another Warp room elsewhere.

"Where am I?" Marisa asked.

"I live over there," the girl pointed behind her. Marisa squinted her eyes to make out the outline of a house. "Do you want to come home with me?" asked the girl.

Strange girl, but Marisa needed to know where she was. Her Queen had commanded that she go to the war's front, and that was where she would go. "Fine," the General said.

"Yay!" cheered the girl. "I'm Mist. I can't wait to tell mommy that I saw someone fall out of the sky!"

Marisa ignored the girl and wrapped her longcoat closer to her skin, the cool air biting at the exposed parts of her skin. The two began the walk to Mist's house.

**『』**

The plains of Ylisse where seldom unspoken of when talking about the country's landscape. Stretching for miles, the flat landscape was only occupied by grass and a few trees. The further north one traveled, the more mountains that would appear. Small animals ran rampant across the free landscape. Many regarded the stretch of land to be one of the most beautiful areas in Ylisse.

Behind Matthew and Leila, the grand city of Ylisstol was still wreathed in smoke. Its once majestic appearance from afar was now reduced to a pitiful appearance.

The two Mantled took a look at the city as they got to the top of a small hill. "Think we'll ever go back?" Matthew asked, realizing for the first time that this could be the last he'd see of the city.

"I think we will," Leila said. "Once we rescue Cath and kill Karel, we'll come back."

Matthew nodded, "It's hard to think like that though. I mean, we don't even know where to find Cath or Karel."

"I've heard rumors that there is a Mantled near Mount Prism that can tell the location of any living person," Leila said. "That's where I'd planned to go, since I knew you had no idea where you were going." Leila ended the last part with a smirk.

"I'm touched by your confidence in me," Matthew said as he turned around to continue walking away from the city of his birth. Leila followed him by his side.

The two walked for several hours. The Ylissean Plains were not meant to be crossed on foot. Horses were generally used, and even then it could take two weeks to make it.

"Let's stop here," Leila said as they came upon a solidary tree that stood watch over the plains.

"We've still got a few hours of light left," Matthew protested, pointing at the sun in the sky. It hadn't even begun to set.

Leila shook her head, "I need to teach you how to use that Mantle you've got. We can't fight a Timeseer unless you're able to be a Vanisher in full."

Matthew accepted her reasoning and went about making their dinner as Leila spoke.

"Every Mantle has been seen before. Yes, some are more common than others, but they have all been seen in the thousands of years that Mira has existed," Leila began. "Most Mantled who use their powers for fighting study other types of Mantles and figure out ways to defeat them."

"So you're saying most people already know how to defeat me?" Matthew clarified as he prepared the fire.

"Indeed," Leila said. "That's why I completely agree with Anna's ideology. She once told me, 'The right way to use a Mantle is in the way no one else will think of. When I disappear, a man will think I will appear somewhere else. So I appear right in front of him in the same place.' Matthew, we know you can disappear and reappear somewhere else, similarly to Anna's Mantle. Now we have figure out how you can surprise someone with it."

"How do you catch someone unaware with Nightwatch?" Matthew asked curiously.

Leila set up both of their bed rolls as she said, "I am the best kind of sentry. Provided I am paying attention, I can't be caught by surprise in the night any more than I could be in the day."

"That's not too impressive," Matthew said honestly.

Leila sighed and nodded, "That's what I get for having a Mantle like Nightwatch. Not only that, but it is  _really_ hard to fall asleep when it is always light out for me."

"You don't sound like you are happy that you have a Mantle," Matthew observed as he finally started the fire.

"When I learned I had my Mantle at age thirteen, my village was ecstatic. They thought I'd go to the capitol and become famous and wealthy. Then I'd help out the village. But Anna was the only guild head that would take me on. No one else wanted a naïve girl like me," Leila said.

"Better to have a weak Mantle than none at all," Matthew said. "Cath and I lived one the streets for a long time. We're siblings, even if we don't share blood relation. But if we had had Mantles, even Nightwatch, life would have been better."

"You and Cath aren't actual siblings?" Leila said in confusion.

Matthew shook his head, "No. But I've known her my whole life. And that makes her my sister."

Leila fell silent until Matthew asked, "So do you know any way for me to take someone by surprise with my Mantle?"

The purple clad woman shrugged, "Not yet. And before we can even figure that out, we need to see what you can do."

"How so?" Matthew asked.

"Just practice appearing and disappearing," Leila said simply. "From right there," Leila pointed to where Matthew stood and then to the opposite side of the fire, "to there."

Nodding, the brown haired man turned and focused on where Leila had pointed to. Just like during the fight with Karel, Matthew imagined himself standing there.

Suddenly Matthew stumbled. He looked and saw he had reappeared where he had meant to. The travel was instantaneous.

"You see?" Leila said as she began to make their dinner. "We can't have you stumbling in battle. We'll have to work on that."

As Leila made their dinner, Matthew continued to appear and reappear. It didn't take too long before he stopped stumbling. But when he tried to go a longer distance, Matthew found that he wasn't very precise with where he would appear.

At that point, something strange happened. Matthew tried to disappear, and couldn't.

"There's your limiter," Leila explained. "Some Mantles only let you use the ability for a certain amount of time or uses. You can bend your limiter so it takes more to trigger it, but you can never get rid of it."

"How do you know all this anyway?" Matthew asked, finally taking a seat.

"Anna taught me most of it," Leila said. "Though I spent a lot of time at the Royal Library researching."

Matthew nodded and the two stopped their conversation and began to eat. Only once they were done, did Matthew ask his red haired companion a question.

"Do you know what this means?" Matthew asked, holding out his hand to show Leila his tattoo.

The woman took the Vanisher's hand and scrutinized the shape. "When did you get this?" she asked.

"When I grabbed this sword," Matthew patted the pommel with his free hand. "One second my hand was clean, the next I had that on it."

"I've never seen this before," Leila said. "It's not a design I'm familiar with." The Nightwatch had her own tattoos, and apparently they had a deep meaning to the village which Leila came from.

"I guess I'll look in a library sometime, I guess," Matthew said, retracting his hand.

**『』**

Emmeryn felt the breeze against her cheek before realizing that she was at her destination. Or wherever she ended up. But before she could analyze what was happening around her, she was taken by pain.

The arrow in her shoulder still lingered, blood flowing out of the wound despite the wooden shaft in her.

The Queen dropped to her knees. What she felt stopped herself from taking immediate action with the arrow.

Sand.

"Thank you, Naga," breathed Emmeryn. She was in Plegia.

Now they would find her. She'd Seen it, ergo it would happen. The future wasn't something that could simply be changed.

Despite her resolve, Emmeryn shuddered. Memories of what were to come surfaced in her mind.

As a child, she'd had dreams. The prison camp had been one of her first dreams. Or rather, nightmares. The image had come back to haunt her over the years.

How Emmeryn wished she could forget it.

Thankfully, the Queen had something to distract herself with: the arrow. She sat down carefully in an effort not to disturb her shoulder. Once the Queen was comfortable, she whispered, "Naga, give me strength."

Grasping the shaft, Emmeryn pulled. The sharp metal cut just as much on the way out as it did the way in. Blood shot from the wound as it was caught on the arrowhead. The Queen screamed in pain. She prayed to Naga fervently, hoping by some miracle that the pain would recede.

It didn't.

Collapsing to the ground, Emmeryn held a hand over her shoulder. She never learned how to deal with this kind of stuff. The Queen was not a General nor a soldier. This wasn't part of her training.

Emmeryn shut her eyes, trying to block out everything. She chanted a prayer to Naga under her breath. It worked for a while, her focus engaging on the words from her mouth rather than the blood coming from her shoulder.

In all her distractions, she never heard the clanking of armor, the sound of soldiers.

**『』**

"This is my home," Mist said. Marisa inwardly groaned. She'd probably hear another full bout of rambling from the little girl. Sure, the brown haired kid was cute, but enough was enough. The kid had talked her ear off already.

"Who else lives here?" Marisa asked bluntly, hoping to use the girl's chatty personality to at least get some information.

"Just my mommy," the girl said. "My big brother used to live here, but he left to go somewhere."

"Where?" Marisa asked. It was the obvious question.

"Mommy didn't say," Mist's mood soured for a moment, before she returned to her chipper attitude.

The General followed Mist to the front door of the small wooden house. It was more of a cabin than a house. It was spared of whatever had consumed the forest. Perhaps it had been built after the forest died.

"Mommy!" cried Mist as she burst through the door. "I found a girl who fell from the sky!"

"What's that dear?" a woman asked. She had a resemblance to Mist, except where Mist had brown hair she had blue.

The woman stood up and turned to the door. She was shorter than Marisa, and was clad in a light blue dress that complimented her hair.

"And who are you?" the woman asked Marisa suspiciously. She moved in front of her daughter to obstruct her from Marisa's view.

"My name is Marisa. Your daughter found me after I had a Warp Staff accident and ended up in the forest," Marisa explained simply.

The girl's mother turned on her daughter, "What were you doing in the forest?"

Mist seemed to quiver, realizing that she probably was going to get into trouble for going so far away from her home. "Um…I saw a flash of light and I wanted to see what it was."

"We'll talk about this later," she said, and turned back to Marisa. "Do you mean my daughter or me any harm?"

Marisa shook her head, "No, I swear it on my honor. I'm only looking for directions towards the nearest town. I can leave now if you'd be kind enough to give them to me."

"The village is half a mile up the road. But you'll never find it now. It's almost dark after all," the woman said. "My name is Elena. Please come in."

"Your kindness is most appreciated," Marisa said, taking a step into the house. As a polite courtesy, she took off her boots. They were caked with the dirt from the walk to the house.

"Let me take your coat," Elena offered. Marisa accepted the offer, grateful to get the sunset colored longcoat off her shoulders. The unintended side effect was Elena seeing her armor.

The kind looking woman scowled at the armor, "You're a soldier, aren't you? Off to fight in that infernal war, right?"

Marisa cocked her head, her tone gaining some steel, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"My son is off at the front," said Elena, though she kept her voice to a whisper. Mist was still in the room. "I don't know if he'll ever come back."

The pink haired woman nodded in what she hoped was understanding. "My title is the Mantled General. Before the capital fell, Queen Emmeryn ordered me to end the war. And that is what I am going to do."

"You think you can end it?" Elena asked skeptically. "Why would you succeed where everyone else has failed?"

"Because I haven't tried to win the war yet," the General said arrogantly. "I'm the best Ylisse has got, not the idiot of a General we have over there now."

Mist's mother nodded, letting the topic drop. Then after a few seconds, she perked up, "Did I hear you say the capital fell?"

Marisa's expression darkened, "We were taken by surprise. The Valmese developed some form of magic that let them warp massive amounts of soldiers at a time. One second the city was empty of them, the next they were there. We didn't stand a chance."

"Do you know if my husband survived?" the woman asked, her hands now clinging to Marisa's arm. The pink haired woman resisted the urge to shrug Elena's hands off. The blue haired woman was giving her shelter, the General couldn't afford to offend her.

"What's his name?" the General asked.

"Greil," Elena said desperately. "Please tell me you know him."

"I've heard the name," Marisa offered. "He trained soldiers, did he not?"

With Elena's nod, Marisa only sighed, "I can't say. If he kept a level head, then I'm sure he escaped." What Marisa did not say was the number of troops she'd seen in the castle. If Greil had stayed and fought, he was likely dead. Elena didn't need to know that.

Elena nodded, accepting the answer. "Come sit down. I'll tell you exactly how to get to the village." Marisa allowed for a small grin to pass onto her lips in thanks.

**『』**

Matthew awoke to a rough shake on the shoulder. Groaning, he opened his eyes to find it was still dark. "What the hell was that for?" he mumbled, frowning at Leila.

"Fiends," retorted Leila, tossing Matthew the Avvenire.

Blinking viciously, Matthew banished all of his irritation. He caught the sword and drew it from its scabbard. The white blade radiated a faint light.

"They must have smelled our dinner," Leila concluded, her rapier exiting its sheath with a hiss.

"Can you see them?" Matthew asked, taking a battle stance.

Leila nodded, "Bonewalkers. They're about one hundred paces that way." The purple clad woman pointed out into the night. Matthew couldn't see them, of course. He could only see he twenty paces of light their fire gave them. "Get ready, they're running."

Matthew strained his ears, listening for the sound of them approaching. And before long, he heard the rattling.

"Aim for the head," Leila advised.

"You don't need to tell me," Matthew said. As the first Bonewalker entered the light of their fire, Matthew jumped it. He swung the Avvenire at the skeleton's head, smashing the monster's skull in.

"I'll stop them in their tracks, you finish them once they're down!" Leila shouted as she began to weave in and out of the skeletons. Her rapier was effectively useless for bashing in the skulls of Bonewalkers. Fortunately it worked fine for toppling them off their feet and breaking their spines.

Matthew moved onto the next Bonewalker he could see. It held a makeshift spear in its hands. The wood was moldy and the spearhead at the tip was worn down. The Vanisher leapt in without caution. When his blade struck the shaft of the spear, it broke in two.

If the Bonewalker could show surprise, it probably would have. But Matthew ended that with a sharp crack as the flat of the Avvenire collided with the skull of the skeleton. The brown haired man turned on the spot to make sure his back was safe.

It wasn't.

As the Bonewalker brought its sword down, Matthew raised his sword up and parried the strike. In turn, he used the Bonewalker's time spent recovering from the backlash to smash its skull.

"I need some help over here!" Leila shouted, her voice sounding labored.

Matthew found Leila fighting off three Bonewalkers with spears. The Nightwatch was barely managing to fend them off. Around her, several skeletons rattled on the ground despite having their legs taken off by Leila. They'd reassemble themselves if given too long.

"Oi, bone heads!" Matthew shouted. He succeeded in turning two of the skeletons' heads toward him as he smashed the nearest one's head. Leila capitalized on his distraction and with a well-placed strike severed one of the Bonewalker's legs from its body. Matthew raked his blade across his Bonewalker's torso, causing several ribs to fly off of its body.

The skeleton wobbled backward, and Leila smashed the butt of her sword down onto its head. The misty white bones tumbled to the ground in a pile as the head was destroyed.

"Is that all of them?" Matthew asked as he walked about, finishing off any remaining Bonewalkers Leila had disabled.

"I see another shape coming closer to us," Leila said, taking a stance. The tattooed woman narrowed her eyes as she stared off into the darkness.

"What is it?" Matthew asked.

"I think it's a Wight," Leila said, cursing after she spoke.

"Crap," Matthew muttered. Wights were skeletons like Bonewalkers, only they had been mutilated by dark magic, causing them to become smarter, faster and stronger. Some of them could even use magic.

"Let's get back into the light," Matthew said, taking a few steps backwards closer to their fire.

Leila followed suit and they waited for the Wight. Once again, Matthew strained his ears for any indication of noise. Then he heard the rattling and…

…clanking?

The Wight screeched as it entered Matthew's range of vision. It was wearing plate armor and holding a large claymore. The skeleton had purple bones instead of the stark white the Bonewalkers had.

The claymore moved with frightening speed, and Matthew barely ducked out of the way. Leila tried to sever the straps holding the armor to the Wight's body from the back. But the Wight turned as if it knew she was there and swung the claymore at her. The Nightwatch was forced into blocking the attack with her rapier, requiring her to hold her other hand to the blade to stop the strike.

If the Wight had put any more power into the strike, it probably would have snapped the blade.

The skeleton opened its mouth with a creak and an airy voice said, "Diiiiiiiiieeeeeee…"

"It can talk?" Leila gasped. In her moment of weakness, her grip on the rapier lessened enough for the Wight knock it out of the way.

Matthew was in no such trouble. He swung the Avvenire at the Wight's head.

_Clang!_

Gritting his teeth, Matthew retracted the sword from the skeleton's armored head. He'd hoped his strike would have been enough to injure the skull directly.

The Wight roared, and swung a boney fist at Matthew. It hit Matthew right in the chest, his red cloak doing nothing to soften the blow.

"Dammit Matthew, are you a Vanisher or not!" Leila shouted angrily. The Wight began an onslaught on Leila. The red haired woman was forced into a game of dodging. If she failed to dodge, she'd die from the force of the blow.

Matthew stood up slowly. Leila was right, he was a Vanisher. It was like having another weapon in his hand. He could use it whenever he wanted.

The Vanished disappeared and appeared directly behind the Wight. Matthew stuck out a leg and tripped the skeletal leg, causing the Wight to topple. Deft as lightning, Leila ripped the Wight's helm off its head. In coordination, Matthew brought the Avvenire down on its head. A satisfying crack resounded across the Ylissean Plains.

"Is it dead?" Leila asked, catching her breath while her sword was still out.

"Yeah," Matthew said as he bent down by the skeleton. As he did, the bones unconnected. With a rattle, the form of the Wight collapsed.

**『』**

Emmeryn regained consciousness to a man's gruff voice saying, "Welcome to Camp Vindicta. Now wake up."

The Queen opened her eyes to see a large man in tan skin addressing her. Emmeryn sat up and took in her surroundings. She was in a wagon being pulled across the desert into a walled area.

"Camp Vindicta?" Emmeryn asked.

"It's one of the many prison camps the Valmese have set up," he said, not taking his eyes off the approaching camp.

"But you're Plegian," Emmeryn frowned. "Are you a prisoner too?"

The bald man shook his head, "No, I'm just a prison guard. The name's Garret." The Queen studied him. He had bulging muscles and no hair. Garret wore nothing except pants and boots, the preferred method of Plegians in their desert climate. In his hands were an axe and a whip.

The wagon entered the confines of the stone walls. Buildings were scattered about in a methodical fashion that Emmeryn didn't know. Prisoners wandered around, clad in the same grey shirt and pants.

At that moment Emmeryn noticed her shoulder. The pain was gone. "Did you…?" she trailed off as she turned to Garret.

"You looked in pain," Garret said in his deep voice. "And I had a vulnerary."

"Naga bless you," Emmeryn said, bowing her head.

Garret looked uncomfortable for a moment before he continued on, "We're taking you to the Warden. It's protocol that he sees every new prisoner. Just…do as he says, and you'll make it out as fine as any other woman."

"What do you mean by, 'As fine as any other woman?'" Emmeryn asked, cocking her head to the side.

Garret shut his mouth and his expression turned very grim. The Queen turned away from him and refused to think about what was to come.

The wagon rolled along the bumpy road. Sand had been packed down into a hard form so that wagons could travel across the camp without hindrance. Probably through some form of magic, Emmeryn supposed.

Eventually the wagon arrived. The driver of the cart beckoned them out, and Garret escorted Emmeryn into the Warden's building.

"New prisoner, Sir Jerme," Garret said, bowing low.

The man sitting at the desk in the sun filled room rose his head to look at them. Jerme had brown hair that touched his shoulders. A hairband kept it out of his eyes though.

But what haunted Emmeryn the most was not his nobleman's appearance, or the several knives at his belt. No, it was his expression. The eyes were crazed, and his mouth seemed fixed in a permanent maniacal grin.

"Very nice, Garret," Jerme said, his voice even sounding haunting. He approached Emmeryn and asked, "What's your name, delicate flower?"

_Naga, give me strength._

"Emm," Emmeryn said. It would be foolish to give her full name. If a Valmese man found out he had Ylisse's Queen in his clutches, Emmeryn would be dead by the end of the day.

"Emm, I have only one rule at Camp Vindicta," he said, his voice almost sounding like a hiss. "And that is to follow any command given. To the word. Any task given should be completed. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Emmeryn said, keeping her back straight. She wouldn't back down. She couldn't.

"Good," Jerme said, his feral grin grew. He walked to a wooden box on the left side of the room and produced a pair of grey clothes like the prisoners had been wearing. "Change into these." He tossed them to her. Emmeryn caught them and hesitated.

"What's wrong, are you deaf?" Jerme said, his grin receding and turning into a line.

"Where should I change?" the Queen asked. Surely he didn't mean right here in front of him and Garret?

For some reason, that set Jerme off. He began to walk towards her. Once he was right next to her, the Warden grabbed her hair and pulled her out of his building into the camp's main road.

Prisoners who were walking about turned to see what the commotion was. Some watched with curiosity, others moved on, not wanting to witness what they knew would happen. And some watched with indifference, this being the only entertainment for them.

Jerme threw Emmeryn to the ground into the sandy road. "Strip," he ordered, none of the lighter voice he'd used a minute before remaining. Now his tone was cold, too cold for the climate Emmeryn was in.

The fair haired woman stood, looked around at all the people and turned red, "In…front of all these people?"

"Yes," growled Jerme. He tapped his foot impatiently. "Hurry up."

"I can't do that in front of people!" The words tumbled out of Emmeryn's mouth before she could retract them. In a fraction of a second, Jerme's face turned murderous. He advanced on her and punched her in the face.

The Queen fell to the ground, pain erupting throughout her face. She felt Jerme flip her onto her back. Hearing the familiar sound of a knife being drawn, Emmeryn felt her clothes being cut off her. The steel ripped away the expensive garments of the Ylissean Queen.

Soon she wore nothing. Emmeryn lay naked in front of dozens of people.

"Garret, your whip," Jerme said, his voiced laced with venom.

Emmeryn couldn't see what was going on with Jerme behind her, and she didn't dare look. A whip? She was a Queen, she shouldn't ever have to endure—

_Crack!_

" Naga! Save me!" Emmeryn screamed as hot leather struck her bare back. She could feel skin begin to split and blood trickle ever so slightly from where the whip hit.

_Crack!_

"I told you there was one rule," shouted Jerme.

_Crack!_

"And that was to obey every command. Am I understood?"

Ememryn didn't reply. She whimpered in pain.

_Crack!_

"Am I understood!?"

_Crack!_

"…Y...es…," Emmeryn muttered between bouts of tears.

_Naga!_

"Louder!"

_Crack!_

"YES!" screamed Emmeryn, tears flowing as freely from her face as the blood flowed from her back.

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

"Let this be a lesson to all!" Jerme shouted. "Never forget the only rule. Now go back to your business. Garret, here's your whip."

Emmeryn was in a daze. Nothing registered to her as her senses melded into one. Her vision blurred, and her hearing all but stopped. All the woman could feel was the ten whip marks on her back.

The Queen was relieved when she finally fell unconscious.

**『』**

"If there's anything I could do for you, name it," Marisa said as she stood outside Elena's house. The night had passed, and as the sun rose it was time for Marisa to leave.

"There is something you could do," Elena said. "Find my son. His name is Ike. And when you do find him, tell him to be careful and that he always has a home here."

The General bowed, "Consider it done."

Marisa offered the woman and her daughter a slight smile. Then she turned around and began heading towards the town that was a short distance away.

"You said you were going to end this war?" Elena called out. Marisa turned her head as the blue haired woman continued, "Can you promise that?"

"I swear it on my life," Marisa said in a low voice. The General began to walk on down the makeshift road.

**『』**

Cath slowly opened her eyes. The area around her was dark, and the orange haired girl was unable to see a thing.

She tried to sit up, but Cath was strapped to the chair she was in. The orange haired woman tried to force her way out of the bonds, but it was no use.

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor. The slowly drew closer towards Cath.

" _Ardeo,"_  spoke a male voice. The ether torches on the walls lit up with the command. A tall man wreathed in a black cloak that hid all his features stood before her. All Cath could see was his face. His black hair reminded her of Karel, but Cath's attention was immediately brought to his eyes.

His gold eyes.

The man walked over to her side. But he wasn't moving towards her, but to the man bound similarly next her. Somehow Cath had failed to notice him.

The man in black took a knife and sliced the skin on the man's arm. The blue haired man in the chair bolted up in shock and pain.

The golden eyed man left the room after that. Cath turned her head toward the man next her and said, "Who are you?"

"I'm Colm," he said. He looked in rough shape. His blue hair was dirty, and his clothes were in shambles. "Who're you?"

"I'm Cath," she replied. "Who was that man just now?"

"That was Ephidel," Colm said, his voice turning weak.

"Where are we?" Cath questioned persistently. Was she in Ylisstol still? The last thing she remembered was getting hit by that woman's thunder spell.

Whatever Colm was going to answer with was lost as Ephidel returned. This time the man had a tray that he set onto a table that was mounted into the wall of the circular room. Cath managed to get a glance at what was on it.

Knives.

"What are you going to do to us?" she demanded, surprising herself with her conviction.

Ephidel turned around and stared at her with his gold, lifeless eyes. "I am preparing you," he said.

Cath shivered subconsciously. "Preparing us for what?" Cath asked.

"The test," he merely said. Cath tried to pry for more answers, but Ephidel's lips were sealed after that.

He advanced on Colm first. With a regal and ritualistic knife in his hand, he began to chant softly to himself. Cath watched in horror as the knife hand began to swirl with dark magic. Ephidel's body blocked the view of the orange haired woman, but Cath could still see him raise the knife.

Then the screams began.

Cath tried to force herself to look away and block out the sound of Colm's screams. But she found that she couldn't, as if Cath were under the influence of a spell.

After ten minutes, Ephidel turned around. His hand was soaked in blood, as well as the knife. Colm had stopped screaming and ceased to only a whimper. He was still alive, but his chest now resembled some sort of magic circle with runes carved into his flesh.

"Your turn," Ephidel said emotionlessly as he closed the distance between Cath and himself.


	3. The Road to Revenge

**Chapter 3  
Road to Revenge**

**『』**

Over the next several days, Matthew and Leila made slow progress towards their destination. While the plains were relatively flat and were not hindering them, they were still massive.

"Is there a town that we could get horses at?" Matthew asked on their fifth day. "Otherwise it'll be a month before we get to Mount Prism and Valm will have overrun the entire country. Then it'll really be difficult to get anywhere."

Leila brought a hand up to her chin in thought, "I seem to recall that there is a military outpost around here. There's a chance the soldiers could spare us a horse."

"Sounds like a plan," Matthew agreed.

When they weren't walking or consulting the map Leila had, the red haired woman was teaching Matthew more about his Mantle. Every night they spent at least an hour practicing.

"I'm going to throw this apple, and you're going to catch it," Leila said one night as they began their usual routine. Between the two of them, Leila was the more skilled hunter. And given the abundance of small animals, her snares always yielded results.

Matthew nodded, used to Leila's crazy training ideas. But he couldn't deny they helped. The Vanisher was already able to disappear and reappear ten feet away with precision.

His female companion tossed the apple away from her. Matthew watched it for a moment, gaging where it would land. Then the brown haired man focused on a spot and concentrated.

He looked up from where he now stood and prepared to grab the apple.

It landed three feet in front of him.

The training continued like that for the rest of the evening. Matthew never caught the apple. But he didn't stop trying.

"Let's try again," Leila said as Matthew handed the apple back to her.

"Leila, I can't see the apple anymore," Matthew said, gesturing towards the night sky. Darkness had fallen and the apple was no longer visible.

"Oh, right," Leila said, casting a look at the sky. "I lost track of time." Matthew had noticed that she had a bad sense of time. It was up to him to let her know when things got dark.

The two ate their meal and prepared to douse their fire. Ever since the first night that the Bonewalkers had paid them a visit, they knew that leaving a fire alight was not the best idea. And now they made sure neither fell asleep during their watches.

"Someone's coming," Leila said abruptly, standing and drawing her rapier.

"Bonewalkers?" Matthew questioned.

"No, a human. I can see them walking towards us," she pointed into the dark where Matthew couldn't see. The Vanisher was used to it, and drew his sword anyway. After half a minute, an armored man emerged from the dark.

Matthew and Leila stared at the newcomer for several long seconds before the man said, "Ha! Just my luck to come across a fair maiden even at night!"

"What?" Leila asked flatly. Matthew decided to hold his tongue while he decided whether the man was a threat.

"My name is Sain, knight of Ylisse! Would you be so kind as to grace a noble knight with your name, or better yet your company?" he asked, getting down on one knee before Matthew's companion and putting a hand on his heart.

Sain stood an inch taller than Matthew. His hair was a darker shade of brown than Matthew's, and was kept out of the knight's eyes by a headband on his forehead. Sain's breastplate and shoulder armor were a deep green color, matching his armored boots. His pants and shirt were tan and black respectively, both made of cloth. In his hands was a long spear, made of iron and quite sturdy.

"Sorry, who the hell are you?" Matthew asked rather rudely. Although to be fair, this Sain had just appeared.

"Ah, perhaps I am being too forward," said the man as he got back up on two feet. "I was on patrol, but I lost track of time. I saw your fire and hoped that maybe I'd be able to spend the night with whoever's it was. Safety in numbers, right?"

"Where are you from?" Leila asked, her face growing curious as Sain mentioned patrolling.

"A small border outpost," Sain said. "It's tucked into a mountain about a mile from here, if my sense of direction is not skewed."

Leila grinned, "We'll let you spend the night, as long as we can accompany you back to your outpost tomorrow. Upon doing so, we will get a horse out of the deal."

"A horse?" Sain said, aghast. A horse was not worth one mere night of safety. "I should refuse, but how could I deny such a beautiful woman? I accept your terms."

Matthew rolled his eyes. That certainly was easy.

Sain began to take off some of the bulkier pieces of his armor. As he did so, formal introductions began.

"I'm Leila, and that's Matthew," the Nightwatch began. "We're from the capital on our way to Mount Prism."

"Is it true what they say?" Sain asked, growing serious. "About the capital? Was it really attacked?"

Leila nodded, "We were there. Valmese soldiers appeared from thin air and overtook the city. We were lucky to escape with our lives."

"Damn," Sain simply said. "That's awful. Is that why you two left?"

"We're off for some revenge," Matthew explained. He'd deemed the flirtatious man harmless, and decided to jump into the conversation. "A man named Karel killed a friend of ours and kidnapped my sister."

"Naga curse them," Sain said. "Vile bunch of cowards. They attack a city unfairly  _and_ they kidnap a woman?"

Matthew nodded, "That's why we're here. Payback."

Sain nodded, understanding. "If there's anything my squad at the outpost can do to help, we will. I'm sure of it."

"Your kindness is appreciated," Leila said, giving the dark haired man a smile.

"Ah!" Sain exclaimed. "The lady smiles for me! Today is a glorious day indeed!"

Matthew found himself laughing at Sain's antics. Leila was smiling wider as well. Neither of them had had much of a reason to smile after the battle of Ylisstol. It made Matthew feel better about his life, and their goal.

It also made him miss his sister more.

**『』**

Emmeryn cracked open her eyes. She wasn't greeted by sunlight like she expected. Instead, the stone walls of a building awoke her. The Dreamseer would feel herself on a wooden sleeping bunk that was off the ground by a foot or two.

Pain flooded her senses. Her vision blurred and all noise was shut out. Only the pain mattered. It encompassed everything about her in that moment.

_Naga, why do you do nothing? Am I not part of your chosen bloodline? Does this mark upon my head mean nothing?_

_Patience,_ her mind consoled.  _Naga works at her won pace. Her help_ will  _come._

"Good to see you're awake," a woman said. "Here I thought you weren't going to wake up."

The woman in front of Emmeryn wore the grey shirt and pants of the prisoners in the camp. But that wasn't what set her apart from the other prisoners. What made the woman unique was the cloth wrap around her head that out of her eyes, or rather eye. The cloth also covered one of the woman's eyes. Presumably she was blind in said eye. Her purple hair obscured the covering though, and a casual passerby might simply think her hair covered her eye. In was long, reaching down further than her shoulders.

"Where…am I?" Emmeryn asked, slowly sitting up from her laying position. As she did so, the fair haired woman gasped in pain.

"Careful," the purple haired woman said. "I did what I could to your wounds, but it wasn't much."

Emmeryn noticed she was wearing the same grey clothes the other two people near her were wearing. Had this woman dressed her?

Wait, two people?

"This is Gonzales," the woman said, pointing to the giant of a man sitting on the ground. "He's the one who carried you here. And I'm Maris."

"Gonzales carry good!" the man exclaimed, smiling widely. The smile exposed his uneven teeth. His hair was unkempt and dirty. But even though the man had a frightening appearance, Emmeryn saw the kindness in his eyes. The kindness that was likely the reason she had been carried off the road by the man.

"Thank you, Gonzales," she said, her voice hoarse. Had she really screamed that much? If the pain in her back was any clue, Emmeryn would probably say yes.

"So what's your story?" Maris asked, leaning forward from the bunk she was sitting on. "Why were you whipped in a street?"

Emmeryn shuddered at the memory, not wanting to remember what had occurred however long ago. "My name is Emm," she began. "I…" Emmeryn trailed off. What  _was_ she going to tell them? That she was a Queen and that she had fled her city due to it being under attack?

A voice echoed in her head. Emmeryn remembered it from a dream, though she could not recall the details. The voice had said, "Sometimes the best lies contain the most truth."

Now was as good a time as any to test that.

"I lived in Ylisstol. The city was attacked by the Valmese, and I was forced to flee," Emmeryn finished. It was as good a place as any to start off at.

"Ylisstol, eh?" Maris commented. "I heard the Valmese guards talking about it the other day. But how did you get here, in Plegia?"

"Warp Staff malfunction, it seems," Emmeryn said. "Or it was because I got hit with an arrow."

"The shoulder?" Maris asked. Emmeryn nodded. "It looked painful, judging from the scar."

Emmeryn's eyebrows narrowed, "The scar?" Her hoarse voice made it sound like a statement instead of a question.

Maris nodded and leaned over her. The prisoner's hands pushed the grey shirt away so Emmeryn's shoulder was exposed. The Dreamseer looked down and saw a red, blotchy scar. In time it would fade, but for now she was stuck like that.

"Delightful," Emmeryn said.

Maris laughed, "But you never mentioned how a noble such as yourself gets shot with an arrow. Care to spin me a tale?"

Emmeryn's eyebrows raised, her eyes growing frightened. How had she known that Emmeryn was a noble?

Maris must have seen the questioning look in her eyes, because she laughed. "It's all in your posture," Maris chuckled. "I was there when you arrived, walking in the street. Not only did you have some damn fancy clothes, but you stood straight. Didn't slouch once. Hell, even when you got whipped you were dignified."

"I guess I got caught up in the action," Emmeryn said, hoping the woman wouldn't think it strange. Would Maris tell the Warden?

"I can relate to that," Maris said. "I used to be a mercenary, you see. And there were always times when I would get wrapped up in someone else's dispute even though I was just a hired sword."

"How did you end up here?"

"I tangled with the wrong Valmese man. It was in Plegia. Occupational forces were having a hard time keeping the citizens in order. So they hired a few mercs, and I was one of them. Day one of the job I argued with my contractor. I didn't want to kill an innocent as a warning to the other people. So he had me locked up and now I'm here."

"What about you—" Emmeryn began, turning to Gonzales. Except the man was paying no attention to their conversation. He played with some of the sand in the room while lying on the floor. The man was like a little kid.

_The man's a simpleton,_  the Dreamseer thought. She immediately reprimanded herself. Gonzales had played a part in saving her. Or at least caring for her.

"Why help me?" Emmeryn asked instead. The question had been plaguing her mind the entirety of the conversation.

"We were asked to," Maris said. "One of the guards ordered us to. And like the Warden says, every order is obeyed."

Emmeryn nodded, "I see."

"Hey, I ain't finished," Maris said. "Even though we were ordered to, I wouldn't have left you in the road. The way you were whipped…that's not right."

The fair haired woman smiled at Maris. She'd probably just made a friend. And on that note, Emmeryn began to sit up.

Maris watched her struggle without saying a word. But Emmeryn could tell that she was watching every grimace of pain in her expression. "You don't want to reopen your wounds," she said. "Garret said you'd get two days to heal before they started you on working."

"Working?" Emmeryn asked.

"It could be anything," Maris said. "Sometimes we build more buildings like the one we're in." The purple haired woman gestured to the long housing room filled with beds like the one Emmeryn sat on. "Sometime we make weapons for the war." Maris shuddered with that statement, but it seems involuntary. "They watch us closely, in case we get ideas with those weapons. Punishment is…severe. Especially if you're a woman."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Maris meant by that. Emmeryn decided to continue on, figuring that her friend wouldn't want to dwell on it, "Anything else?"

"Odd jobs," Maris shrugged, recovering her composure. "Clearing rocks, stuff like that. But we're not really a work camp like some of the others. Everyone here is here for a crime of some sort. Except you, it seems."

"So what are we here for?" the Dreamseer asked.

"Punishment," Maris said simply.

_Naga, help me._

**『』**

At the first light the next day, Matthew, Leila and their new companion Sain prepared to make for Sain's outpost. The sun was shining with a few scarce clouds in the sky.

Which highlighted the smoke in the distance all the more.

As soon as the three saw that, they all adopted different expressions. Matthew had a look of curiosity. Leila had puzzlement. And Sain had dread.

"The outpost is in that direction," he said, his tone completely unlike the previous tones Sain had used. Dread filled his voice. Had his outpost been attacked?

"We should get moving then," Leila said, her resolution turning firm. Sain voiced his agreement and Matthew simply nodded.

As the day drew on, they approached closer and closer. According to Sain, the outpost was about two miles away. With their brisk pace, they should have made it there within half an hour at most. But it turned out to be further than they thought.

No wonder Sain had gotten lost the previous night.

The three had quit running a while ago. If there was trouble, they needed to conserve their strength.

After about an hour, they arrived. Next to the only mountain for miles was a stone keep. It was built into the mountain, causing the outpost itself to not be flat against the ground. A single turret rose above the structure, which was likely used as a way to spot enemies.

And it burned.

Smoke poured out of the windows. Bodies were strewn across the grass in front of the stone walls. In one spot, even a stone wall had caved in.

"No…" Sain said softly before he broke off running towards the keep. Matthew and Leila exchanged a look, and followed him.

The green knight stopped at every body he passed to check for life. The Vanisher was surprised that Sain addressed them all by name. Clearly he had been with his fellow soldiers a long time.

The other two felt like intruders in a funeral as Sain continued on, tears streaming down his face. But it only got worse as they went inside.

That was where they saw the first enemy soldier's body. The red armor marked the dead man as Valmese.

As they walked through the once furnished rooms, Matthew observed that the number of red clad soldier bodies increased. The most elite of the Ylisseans must have been pushed back into the outpost.

Sain had gotten ahead of the two Mantled. But once Matthew and Leila located him, they almost wished they hadn't found him.

The green knight was leaning over a body of another knight. His orange hair was marred with blood. This dead man in particular seemed to matter to Sain.

Matthew walked slowly over to the knight and crouched down by the body of his friend. "Who was he?" Matthew asked.

"His name is…was Kent. We were cadets together, back in the academy," Sain said, speaking of the soldier's academy back in Ylisstol where men and women trained to be soldiers professionally.

"You do know who did this, right?" Matthew clarified.

"Valm," Sain said, spitting out the word with hatred.

At that moment Leila decided to join them, choosing to crouch down by Sain. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, "They won't stop. Valm wants to conquer the world. We're just and obstacle in their way."

"But we can't let them get away with it," Matthew continued. "Come with us. Together we'll get revenge."

Sain's face contorted with rage as he thought about the people who murdered his friends. "I will come with you. We'll rescue your sister, and give Valm what's coming to them. Kent wouldn't have wanted me to do something rash like that, but…I can't let his death go unavenged."

Matthew nodded, "We'll succeed. I swear it on what honor I have."

Sain nodded, "We need to bury them first."

"We'll have to burn them," Leila said. "We can't dig a grave that big."

"I…I understand," Sain said, flinching in pain as Leila spoke. "But I will bury Kent."

"I bet he deserves it," Leila said kindly, giving Sain a sympathetic smile.

As the green knight carried the body of Kent out of the outpost, Matthew delivered a savage kick to one of the Valmese corpses.

"Calm down," Leila said. "Getting riled up won't help."

"I'm angry," Matthew hissed. "First Anna and Ylisstol, now every single person at an outpost? They didn't even take prisoners. Every single man and woman dead. They're barbarians."

"Which is why we're going to get payback," Leila said. "Remember this rage. It'll serve us well on our quest."

"And here I thought you'd tell me that rage wouldn't solve anything."

"I'd be a hypocrite if I said that," Leila smirked. "I'm just as angry as you are. But we'll stop them."

"We should go look for horses," Matthew said.

"Not before we rest their souls," Leila said, giving a slight disapproving look at Matthew. "We burn the bodies first, then we search for horses."

"Understood."

**『』**

Sometimes the Hand surprised herself. She had traveled a distance that normally would have taken a month minimum in a week. Though that was thanks to the village she came across. Heather had not expected there to be a mage in the village. And especially not one who had a Warp staff.

Thankfully, Heather had enough money on hand to bribe the mage into Warping her. But of course, she had to kill a Wight that had been troubling the village as of late first for the mage. It was no trouble, but Heather hated wasting time when her Queen's orders had to be obeyed.

In the long run, it had cut several weeks off her journey. Now she merely had to wait in the town until some man in red appeared. Then the blonde was to go into the mountain with the man.

Waiting was one thing Heather hated. And men, but that was different issue.

The Hand marched right into the village. It was a large town, so there were people milling in the streets. And every single one of them stopped what they were doing to watch Heather as she passed them. She guessed it was because of her attire. Not only was it revealing, but it was the kind of outfit a noble could afford. Baroness Heather Lowell did not care about the glances. After all, she drew the looks of the ladies as well.

As Heather walked through the dirt streets, she examined the shops as she passed them by. What Heather was looking for was an inn, since she'd likely be spending a while in the town.

Hopefully the man in red would go there too.

The Hand shook her head. Emm had Seen it happen, so Heather only had to follow her instincts. The future would happen regardless, and Heather had been seen in it. So it was just a matter of waiting.

Finally she located an inn, the Seventh Heaven. It looked surprisingly nice, due to the fact it was made of stone. In fact, Heather realized, the whole town had mostly stone buildings. That mean it saw enough trade so that people could afford to build richer houses.

The blonde pushed open the dual doors to the inn and proceeded straight to the counter where a barmaid worked. Like in most bars, when she walked in heads turned. Thankfully in here, most people were too drunk or just didn't care enough to give her a second thought.

"Hello, ma'am," greeted the barmaid. "How can I help you?" The woman seemed to hesitate on the ma'am, as if she wondered what she was supposed to call the richly dressed woman.

"Hello to you too, beautiful," Heather winked. The barmaid blushed at her comment. "I was hoping you had a room to spare me?" Heather asked. "And a name, too."

"I'm Jill," she said, blushing slightly. But Jill managed to cover that quickly. "But I'm afraid we don't have any rooms."

Heather frowned at the red haired woman. She hated being told bad news by a beautiful woman. And Jill was quite the looker, her pony tail made with elegance and precision. Even in plain clothes she was striking, the brown dress accentuating—

_Focus, Heather,_ her mind chided her.  _Fix the problem._

"That's a shame," Heather said. "Can you think of any solution?"

"Perhaps another inn has a room?" Jill suggested. "I'd hate to turn away a customer from my inn, but I don't have much choice."

" _Your_ inn?" Heather said skeptically.

"Yeah," Jill said. "I inherited it from my parents when they passed three years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Heather said, bowing her head politely. "But that gives me an idea, surely you have a room here?"

"I…yes, I do," Jill said, her eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.

"I'll pay double to share that room with you," Heather smirked. "Hell, I'll even sleep with you, if you want."

"What?" Jill said, mortified.

"You know, going for a rumble in the bed sheets," Heather grinned, chuckling at Jill's reaction.  _Sorry Emm. Sometimes you do what you have to._

"No!" Jill said loudly, drawing several looks from other patrons. "No to the sleeping with you part," the owner of the inn said quietly. "But I am open to figuring out a price to share my room."

"Sounds like a plan," Heather said.

"Triple the usual rate," Jill said.

Heather gaped, "That's robbery, Jill. Surely you can cut me a little slack?"

"You just tried to get into my bed," hissed Jill.

The Hand blushed, embarrassed. "Guilty," she said. "Though I have a counter proposal. I pay you double, and I give you this." From her heavier belt she removed a jeweled knife and laid it on the counter. "I wager you could get five thousand for that."

"We have a deal," Jill said with a smile. She took the dagger. "I'm going to put this in my safe. Find a table, and I'll be out soon to have a chat."

"Delightful," winked Heather.

The blonde haired woman navigated the busy tavern. It was noisy and full of drunk men.

Heather hated it.

Finally finding a quieter table in one of the corners, Heather sat down. While she waited for Jill to return, the Hand scouted the place for anyone that would recognize her, as a noble or Hand.

"Here we are," Jill said, sitting down across from Heather. In each of her hands she had a glass of wine.

"How thoughtful of you," Heather said with a smile. "Do you usually drink with your clients?"

"No, and I usually don't rent my room out to them either," Jill said. "And I should mention that I like to know the people I share my rooms with."

"You want the long version of my life, or the short version?" Heather asked.

"The long. My workers can manage without me. At this hour, people will only be leaving," Jill said.

"Fair enough," Heather took a sip of her wine.

**『』**

Marisa looked upon her destination with a sense of finality. She was looking at Ylissean side of the Ruins of Animas.

The fort was situated at the entrance to a large canyon. The battlefield was an area riddled with plateaus and chasms, making it an unconventional battlefield. From what Marisa had heard, battles would simultaneously take place atop the plateaus as well as in the chasms.

The fort itself was massive. It had been built long ago during the holy war where humans and Naga fought a dark power. But even to the day, the fort still stood. A large wall stood on the canyon side, perfect for archers to perch. Behind the wall was the main keep, where the General's quarters would be as well as where plans were made.

The rest of the area contained barracks or training grounds. Soldiers milled about freely. It was common knowledge that there would be no attacks coming from the Ylissean side of the fort. The Plegian side was the one to worry about.

At least, until the invasion and battle at the capital.

As Marisa approached the open side of Fort Obice, there was a furor of activity. Ten archers immediately took aim at her and the spearmen and women nearby readied their weapons and eyed Marisa with suspicion.

"Declare yourself!" shouted a yellow haired man. His regal looking bow was pointed straight at Marisa's face.

"Captain Klein," Marisa called out, "I am glad to see that you are still alive."

"Lady General?" he gasped. His bow was immediately aimed to the ground in apology. "I did not recognize you."

"It is alright, Captain," Marisa said, approaching her friend.

"Actually, it's General now, General," Klein said with embarrassment.

The General wore a blue tunic held a style that indicated Klein was of noble birth, of some sort. His blonde hair barely touched the collar of the tunic, for it was kept neat. Just like a noble's hair, not a common soldier. On his shoulder, he wore a shoulderguard. It connected with a leather strap that, on his back, served as what held his quiver to his body. On his belt, a black rag hung, waiting for its owner's hands to become sweaty so that it would serve its purpose. Klein also wore fashionable white armored boots. They made him look taller, which served a purpose because Klein himself was not anything special in the way of height.

"It appears things are more unbalanced here than I thought," Marisa muttered once she was next to him. "War Archers don't usually get promoted to General."

"We've run low on officers who are capable of taking command, Lady General," Klein said. "General Hugh is trying to replace as many of the fallen soldiers as he can."

"How did he even get into the position of General?" Marisa asked as she began to walk towards the Generals' quarters. Klein followed her after giving a stand down command to the rest of his troops.

"Like everyone else who has a command out here, through death. Whoever was last in charge died," Klein explained. "I haven't been here long, but I was promoted as soon as I arrived."

"How many soldiers do we have?" Marisa asked as they arrived at their destination.

"I can't say," the War Archer said. "Stray soldiers flock in every day, General. It seems in the wake of the capital's fall that Fort Obice has become Ylisse's last stand."

"Then General Hugh better be able to tell me," Marisa growled. Klein followed the pink haired woman up the stairs and through the double doors into the Generals' building.

Marisa was greeted with the sight of a well-lit and furnished room. Fancy rugs covered the floor and a regal long table stood in the center of the room.

The Mantled General shook her head with disdain. Such riches did not have a place on a battlefield.

"And who are you?" a man standing at the center of the table said. Annoyed, he continued, "I've got a war to fight here, and I can't deal with people interrupting."

"You mean  _I_ have a war to fight, General Hugh," Marisa growled. Behind her, Klein backed away. The General didn't blame him, there was bound to be a show of power.

" _Your_ war?" General Hugh said, his eyebrows shooting upward. "What gave you that idea?" General Hugh's hair made him appear more fearsome than he actually was. The purple haired man was actually quite short, shorter than Lloyd. And unlike Lloyd, Hugh's attire was simpler. Hugh merely wore a green longcoat that was held to his body by a red cloth tied around his waist. His purple shirt and beige pants were in good condition for a soldier, and the rings on his fingers indicated some form of wealth.

"I am the Mantled General," the pink haired woman snarled. "You owe me your allegiance."

"The Queen put me in charge here,  _Lady_  General," Hugh said, walking from behind the table. Marisa smirked as he approached, making it even more clear that he was shorter than her.

"Her highness ordered me to take control of the front of the war," Marisa said. "And I am here to do that."

"Do you have any proof of that?" Hugh asked, skepticism dripping from his voice.

"No, I do not," Marisa admitted.

"And therein lies the problem," Hugh said. "You could be a Valmese spy for all I know. And with Ylisstol's defeat, we can't afford to make mistakes like that."

"There is no mistaking my identity," the Mantled General said. "General Klein can confirm it, and I am sure there are other Generals and Captains that can confirm my position and face."

"It's true, sir," Klein piped up. "The Lady General is telling the truth."

General Hugh scowled, "Fine. But I do not accept that you are taking command here. I was put in charge—"

"By the death of your predecessor."

"—and I intend to remain in charge," Hugh finished.

Marisa smirked, "Then perhaps we can accommodate. If you are willing to respect my Arulian heritage, then we could duel for the command of this army."

As she expected, the mention of the nation of Arulia riled Hugh. The island nation stood between the continent of Valm and the continent that Ylisse was a part of. It was a nation of deadly warriors and barbaric traditions, much like Ferox. Except Ferox fulfilled its promises where Arulia did not. Which meant all nations hated Arulia.

"I accept your challenge," Hugh growled. He removed a thin red tome from his longcoat. An Arcfire tome.

"Let us settle this in view of the soldiers," Marisa said. "It would be good for them to understand their leader's might."

"My soldiers know just how strong I am," Hugh retorted.

"Then let us test that," the Mantled General declared.

The two Generals left the building and headed toward one of the several training grounds. Klein ran ahead and shouted, "Clear the area!"

Soldiers who were sparring gave the yellow haired man either looks of confusion or annoyance. But when they saw their General and a woman dressed so fiercely, they cleared the area.

Marisa stepped onto the rough brown dirt and proceeded to the center of the ring. The dirt was uneven in many places as a result of soldiers falling and fighting.

"At your ready," she called out, turning toward where Hugh stood.

Hugh ran a hand through his long purple hair. Marisa watched carefully as she noticed every small twitch he gave. Her opponent was nervous.

The green clad man brought up a hand and shouted, " _Ignis!"_

Tomes were strange things. A spellcaster could memorize incantations easily, given how they generally were short words. But the tome itself had to be in their possession to cast spells.

But what made spellcasting difficult was the ether it required. Every mage had an innate amount of ether that they drew on to cast spells. Some spells used more than others. So what judged a mage on their caliber was the ether they could wield.

Marisa jumped to the side as a torrent of fire struck where she had been standing. But instead of drawing her flamberge, the Mantled General began to walk up to her opponent.

Hugh's eyebrows furrowed as his opponent drew closer. He held up his hand again and shouted, "Fira!" The same torrent of fire that Marisa had dodged flew at her in a fury again.

As she had before, Marisa jumped out of the way. The blaze hit the ground, charring the dirt.

"You're not even worth using my Mantle on," Marisa shouted. "You missed me twice, is that what you call the makings of a General?" This man wasn't even worth drawing her sword for. And she'd make him learn that.

Hugh's face grew red and he retaliated with magic. The pink haired woman had to give Hugh credit, he wasn't a shoddy mage. The purple haired man was able to push her back with his fire. More than once, their audience had to dive out of the way to avoid a fireball.

Marisa blinked when the attacks stopped. She looked at Hugh from where she stood on the other side of the ring. Now that he was out of ether, Marisa no longer had to worry about anything.

General Hugh was not without tricks up his sleeve. From one of his pockets, he drew a red crystal. The Mantled General's eyes narrowed. The red glow from the ether crystal dimmed.

"I didn't know that was allowed," Marisa said as she began to approach Hugh.

"The Arulians like to say, 'Anything goes.' Do they not?" her opponent smirked.

Marisa bit back a curse. He was right, unfortunately. "Enough of this," the woman snarled. She drew her flamberge from her sheath.

" _Ignis_!"

Marisa paid the attack no mind. It didn't hit her, so it wasn't a concern to the General. Hugh stumbled back, summoning another spell to try and regain the ground he had.

It didn't work.

Before the purple haired man could react, the wavy blade of the flamberge was at his neck.

"Do you understand how easily it would have been to kill you had I drawn my sword from the start?" Marisa asked.

"Yes," Hugh spat out. It seemed like saying the word was a chore.

"Good," Marisa said while sheathing her blade. "Your first order as my subordinate is to round up all your men and women with commands. I need to see what I have to work with."

"As you say…commander," grunted Hugh.


	4. Fight Your Future

**Chapter 4  
Fight Your Future**

**『』**

Cath felt the cold, stone floor as she hit the ground. With blurry vision, the orange haired woman looked up weakly from the ground. Colm had also been flung to the floor across from her in the circular room. Torches lined the grey wall, much like they had in the room Cath and Colm had previously been in.

However many days ago that was.

The thief clutched her stomach in pain. Even though the cuts were scabbing over, the lacerations still felt as if they were fresh.

Ephidel sat up on the balcony that extended a short ways over the round room. In his hand stood a wicked staff, the dull, orange crystal spiking out lethally.

Colm stood before Cath got up. He turned toward the black cloaked man and said, "What is going on?"

Cath adjusted her scarf, getting it set how she wanted.  _How the hell is he sounding normal like that?_ Cath wondered. No noticeable pain lingered in Colm's voice. Had he received less torture than her? Or was he merely stronger?

"This is your test," Ephidel said. "You two are to fight. The winner shall leave alive."

On cue, a man in red tossed two beat up swords into the ring. The crude blades must have been rejected from the army.

"Thank you Navarre," Ephidel's carrying voice echoed. "Return to your next assignment. I shall oversee this."

"As you will," the man in red bowed and left through a door behind the gold eyed man.

Cath stared at the swords, and then at Colm. The blue haired man looked equally repulsed. The orange haired woman glared at Ephidel and shouted, "To what end?"

"Pardon?" Ephidel asked, appearing genuinely intrigued by her question.

"Why are we supposed to fight?" Cath asked. She stood up as well, stumbling toward Colm.

"Both of you are Snap-Mantles," Ephidel said, leaning back in his elegant chair. "One of you must kill the other to complete the ritual."

"Ritual?" Colm questioned. He allowed Cath to lean on his arm for support.

"Enough of this," Ephidel said, the emotionless tone of his voice still prevailing. "The both of you  _will_  fight." He held the staff aloft, and the head glowed with dark light.

"Is that a Berserk Staff—" Colm began before choking on his words. The blue haired man stumbled to the ground, gasping for air.

Cath's eyes widened and she got down by his side. "Colm!" she shouted. The orange haired woman turned to Ephidel and yelled, "What did you do!?"

"You have better things to be doing," Ephidel advised. "Like picking up one of those swords."

Without many options, Cath opted to grab a sword and back away from Colm nervously.

"It's called a Berserk Staff." Ephidel's soft voice touched her ears, sending shivers through Cath. "Casting it on another human will send them into a bloodrage. They are berserk, and will stop at nothing to kill whatever is in front of them until the spell wears off.

The pain Cath had been feeling before vanished. It was replaced by fear, fear so powerful it dominated her entire mind.

Colm's stopped gasping for air on the ground. He slowly stood up, breathing heavily. The once kind and mischievous eyes of Colm now narrowed. Their red shade made Colm look like a monster out of a story book.

Except this was real.

Faster than she expected, Colm dashed to the remaining sword and scooped it up. He took an aggressive stance and began to advance on her.

_Shoulders back!_ barked Anna's voice in her mind.  _The minute your arms become weak, that is when you lose. You can't cut corners on your defense!_

Cath thrust her shoulders back and straightened her arms. The sword's tip pointed at her advancing opponent. But she could not keep the tremor out of her body.

Colm's first strike was unsurprisingly aggressive. His steel crashed into hers with a clang the resounded throughout the room. Immediately after both of their crossguards connected. The two held there in a stalemate.

"Colm, can you hear me?" Cath asked. She couldn't win against someone in this condition. Cath could barely keep her feet from slipping out from under her.

Colm didn't respond to her plea. He grunted as he tried to force Cath to the ground with sheer force.

Fortunately, Cath managed to shoot a foot out and kick Colm in the leg. The blue haired man gasped with surprise as he teetered on one leg.

Cath didn't know too much about swordplay, but any fool could tell this was a pivotal moment in the battle. The orange haired woman slashed her sword weakly, but managed to score a cut across Colm's chest.

It would prove to be the deciding factor. Both of them had been imprisoned for Naga knows how long. In their weakened state, a single cut like Cath's decided a fight.

Colm fell down, groaning in pain. Cath stood over him and let the bloodied sword drop from her hand.

"Finish him," Ephidel commanded. Cath twitched, forgetting that the golden eyed man had watched the fight.

"No," she refused. "I beat him. He needs healing."

"You must kill him," Ephidel frowned. Cath guess that was the only facial expression he could perform.

"No," Cath repeated.

In a matter of moments, Ephidel vaulted over the balcony and jumped down into the ring with more grace than Cath expected. Before she could react, he stood by Cath and held the staff higher.

"Kill him," he commanded. All softness had vanished from his voice. It had turned into a cold, thin tone akin to a knife.

Cath fell to the ground, her head pulsing. She could hear her heartbeat pick up. Her vision became a red filter.

Berserk.

The woman roared as she picked up the sword and buried it directly into Colm's heart. The blue haired man screamed. But his cries did not last long. Her next strike severed his head from his neck.

"Good," Ephidel said, his lip curling into a sadistic smile. He extended his hand to Cath's head and chanted in the language of dark magic.

Black magic wisped around her head, clouding her vision. And Cath felt no more.

**『』**

"We've got two choices," Sain said.

"Did you find horses?" Leila immediately asked.

"Patience, lovely Leila," Sain grinned. "I might have found something better."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at that. The three had been searching for the escaped horses from Sain's outpost. It had been nearly two hours, and the Vanisher was ready to be on their way.

Sain gestured for them to follow. The green knight led the two Mantled into a nearby clearing where several horses grazed.

And a couple giant chickens.

"Chocobos!" Sain exclaimed, a smile on his face. The large yellow birds were like chickens, but larger, faster and sleeker. The birds were built for speed, their aerodynamic feathers allowing for maximum agility.

"You want us to ride birds?" Leila asked skeptically.

"You're joking," Matthew said at the same time.

"I do not jest!" exclaimed Sain. "These birds are wickedly fast. They could outrun a horse any day."

"You sound like you're selling us something," Leila remarked. The red haired woman walked up to the nearest Chocobo and stroked its feathers.

"Kweh," it said, appreciating her petting.

"How did you tame them?" Matthew asked. "I've always heard Chocobos are too wild to be tamed. That's why they aren't used in war."

"Time," admitted Sain. "It took a while. It was our hobby at the outpost."

"Do you have saddles?" Leila began to pet the head of the Chocobo.

"Unless they burned in the fire, yes," Sain shrugged. "But I could fashion some makeshift ones if we had to make do."

"Sounds like a plan," Matthew said.

"My comrades' souls are at rest," Sain said, losing some of his vigor. "I'd like to get away from this place quickly."

Matthew put a hand on Sain's shoulder, "We'll leave within the hour."

"Then we better—

_Blue. His vision turned blue._

_Matthew saw him and his two companions riding their Chocobos across the plains. But something wasn't right._

" _Faster!" shouted Sain. His Chocobo began to speed up. Matthew reciprocated and his Chocobo did likewise._

_Leila's Chocobo lagged behind. Matthew turned to see what was chasing them._

_A dragon._

" _Leila!" shouted Matthew in warning._

_The dragon let loose a roar and shot flame from its mouth. The inferno engulfed Leila._

"—get going, right?" Sain said.

Matthew didn't reply. This time he knew he couldn't pass it off as a fever dream or hallucination.

This time he knew he'd seen the future.

**『** **Twelve Years Ago** **』**

"Stand up straight," her father hissed.

Heather's back straightened at the familiar command from her father. Usually she would complain and get into an argument with her father, but today was special.

Today they were going to meet the King.

House Lowell was on the rise, with Heather being the youngest of the family. She had no real purpose due to that.

But that could change very quickly. Not that Heather knew that.

"Announce us, please," Heather's father asked the servant by the doors. Inside the room was the Ylisstol's throne room, where Heather for the first time would see King Cornelius.

The servant nodded and opened one of the doors. He loudly proclaimed, "Baron Lowell and his daughter, Lady Lowell."

"I will see them," boomed a loud voice. Presumably the King's.

Heather followed her father in like an obedient daughter. He had made it very clear what would happen if she acted out of turn.

"Your majesty," the yellow haired Baron knelt in front of the elevated throne of the King.

"Faval Lowell," King Cornelius said. "It has been too long." To Heather's surprise, the King of Ylisse stood from his throne and embraced her father.

"Indeed, your majesty," Faval said.

"Enough of the formality," Cornelius said jovially. "I will not have a conversation with you stumbling over my titles every sentence." The tall King turned towards Heather. "And this must be your daughter," he guessed.

Heather curtsied, having nearly forgotten to do so. She hadn't expected the King to be so…big. His greying blue hair combined with his bulk made him appear four times as big as Heather.

And Heather was tall for the age of thirteen.

"Your majesty," she greeted, bowing her head.

"Quite the daughter you have, Faval," King Cornelius said with a smile.

"I understand that you have two fine daughters yourself, do you not?" her father asked.

"You understand correctly!" Cornelius said, flashing yet another smile. "Emmeryn is growing up to be just like her mother. She'll be a fine woman. Lissa is…" The King fell short, contemplating whether or not to go on. Heather saw sadness flittered across his face. "Lissa is doing as well as she can. She is only four, after all!"

Faval chuckled, which mixed nicely with Cornelius' booming laugh. Heather smiled, figuring that would be expected of her even though she felt like she was missing something.

"Ah, Heather my dear," the King said, bending over slightly. "I'm sure all this talk is rather boring, no? How would you like to meet my daughter, Emmeryn? She's about your age, after all!" Another laugh.

The blonde smiled and nodded. King Cornelius beckoned towards one of his guards, "Lloyd! Escort this young lady to the courtyard. I believe Emmeryn is out there."

"Yes, milord," a young man said. He broke off from the retinue of guards on the side of the throne room.

"You see this man, Faval?" Cornelius said, pleased. "A future General, mark my words! Lloyd is the best guard I've got. No need to worry about your daughter."

"Thank you, your majesty," Heather's father bowed.

"Blast! What did I tell you about titles!" complained Cornelius. Heather giggled as she was led away by Lloyd. She liked the King; he was funny.

Lloyd silently led her through several hallways and doors. And after what felt like ages, Heather finally got to see the courtyard.

It was large for a courtyard. Much larger than the one at the Lowell Estate. The grass was groomed to perfection and the flowers were all in bloom. There was even a fancy fountain that a couple ducks swam in.

As soon as Heather turned her head, all that beauty was meaningless. Because she saw  _her._

"Who is that?" Heather asked, mystified.

"Princess Emmeryn," Lloyd replied. "First in line to the throne of Ylisse."

Heather walked toward the woman who was two years her senior. She sat on a white bench next to the fountain talking to a much younger boy with blue hair. That had to be Prince Chrom.

"Lady Emmeryn," Lloyd bowed once he had approached close enough. "Your father wanted you to meet Lady Heather Lowell."

Emmeryn turned her attention towards the girl standing next to Lloyd. "Thank you, Sir Lloyd," she said, smiling. "You may go back to father, if you wish. Sir Legault is here to watch us."

Leaning against one of the stone pillars was a tall man with lavender hair. He waved at the mention of his name.

"As you say, milady," Lloyd bowed again and retreated back into the castle.

"My name is Emmeryn," said the Princess, speaking to Heather. She extended a hand to shake like grownups did.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Emmeryn," Heather said, feeling small. "I'm Heather." She took the handshake with vigor.

"And I'm Chrom!" Emmeryn's little brother said. He broke apart their hand shake and tried to shake both of Heather's hands at the same time.

Almost at once, Heather began to laugh. Emmeryn joined with her, followed by Chrom.

There began a friendship between the two. Eventually, when Chrom grew old enough to not make a fool out of himself he became part of it too.

And Legault stood in the shadows and watched the noble girl with interest.

**『』**

"That's where it all started," Heather said.

"So you're a Baroness?" Jill said, aghast. "I'm sorry to have been so rude, milady!"

"No, no," Heather waved off. "I'm undercover. I can't have you calling me a noble. Plus I'd hate to force a pretty girl like you to bow to me."

"You sure seem to like pretty girls," observed Jill.

"What gave it away? When I offered to sleep with you?" Heather grinned, leaning back in her chair. The Seventh Heaven had begun to lose its patrons to sleep, giving the room a quieter atmosphere.

"Yep," the red haired woman said. "So what happened between you and the Queen? You said you became friends, but the way you talk about her makes me think it's something more."

Heather glanced around quickly to make sure no one was near. Then she leaned forward and said, "Yeah, I'm with the Queen. In a romantic way."

"Why did you look around?"

"To see if there are any of those damn Church of Naga bastards around," Heather said vehemently. "They hate people like me."

"People like you?"

"You know, the women who go for the ladies or the men who shoot for the guys," shrugged Heather.

"Why would it matter?" Jill said, puzzled.

"You don't have a Church in this town, do you?" Heather asked, giving a lopsided smirk.

"No. Anyone who worships Naga does it on their own time," Jill explained. "Everyone else doesn't believe."

"Bless them," Heather grinned. "Non-believers and me get along just nicely."

Jill went back to their previous topic, "So what happened next?"

"We became friends, like I said. But three years later was when things changed."

"That was when the King was murdered, right?"

"Correct."

**『』**

_Leila!_

Matthew bolted upright from his sleeping position, "Leila!"

"What?" said the confused redhead. She had the long shift of sentry duty that night.

The Vanisher blinked several times. He'd been dreaming about it, about what he'd seen. "It's…nothing," Matthew replied. "Just a strange nightmare." Would Leila believe him about what he saw?

"Then go back to sleep," Leila ordered. "We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. Hopefully we'll be at Mount Prism in a few days."

Matthew nodded and laid back down into his bedroll. But he did not fall back asleep. No, the brown haired man was much too riled up for that.

**『』**

"Is this all of them?" Marisa asked, annoyance in her voice. This group of Generals was not enough to lead an army. One of them wasn't even a General.

The Mantled General stood on one side of the large table in the General's quarters. The other commanders stood on the other side of the table.

"This is it," Klein said.

"This is what you've got to work with," Hugh said. "Better accept it." Marisa scowled at the purple haired General.

"I suppose introductions are in order?" said the oldest man in the room, who served as their tactician. He had to be in his fifties, and sat in a chair. "I am Canas." The tactician had long dark robes that had faded from use. They were nothing special like Marisa's attire or any of the other Generals for that matter. The purple haired man was in surprisingly good health for his age of near fifty. Though the monocle on his face gave away that he was not as young as he looked. Several wrinkles marred the face of the shaman.

"I'm Briggid," said the other War Archer. She was just like Klein in rank and skill. General Briggid looked as if she were still in her twenties, even though she was much older. Her yellow hair was kept out of her eyes by a headband that was white. Said hair was so long, it touched her waist. She wore an orange sleeveless shirt with a high collar. Her only armor were her shoulder guards, white and made of hardened leather. Around her waist was a belt that had a quiver attached. Briggid wore a pair of cloth, orange boots that allowed maximum dexterity. They were short enough that they, combined with her short shirt, left little to one's imagination below the waist.

"This is all you have?" Marisa said, turning on Hugh. "One other General, and a tactician?"

"Things went downhill ever since we lost our previous head General," Hugh admitted. "Sir Orson's disappearance lead to many people in command getting killed."

"Is that your fault?" the Mantled General turned to Canas.

The man with the monocle thought for a moment, "It could be. After Orson vanished, I had Hugh try some risky plans. Some ended badly."

"And ever since then I've been careful," Hugh said. "Casualties have been kept to a minimum."

"At the cost of not much advancement," Marisa frowned. "From what I heard, those risky plans were working."

"Are lives not important?" the purpled haired General asked.

"They are, but wars should be won, not dilly dallied," the pink haired woman said. "I appreciate being handed an army that has not suffered excess casualties, but I do not appreciate a lack of commanding officers."

"That can be rectified," a new voice said. A woman walked into the room. "Sorry I'm late, I only just heard the news of our new General. I'm Lady Eirika of Renais."

Ylisse was comprised of four dukedoms that ruled small affairs while the King or Queen made the large decisions. Renais, Lenster, Etruria and Lycia each had their own noble family and minor nobles.

The lady of Renais stood regally with long, aquamarine hair. She was only average height, and Marisa towered over her. Over her red shirt, Eirika wore plate armor that covered her shoulders and most of her torso. Instead of wearing pants like a commoner would wear, the noble had a sort of battle skirt on. Marisa frowned at its impracticality. But at least she wore boots instead of slippers or whatever noblewomen wore. At Eirika's neck was a white cape that reached her waist. In her gloved hand was a rapier, the weapon of a noble.

"My brother  _will_ come," she said. "Duke Ephraim will answer Ylisse's situation."

"But he is not here now, and that still leaves me with problems," Marisa snapped. "Hope is good, but it doesn't solve situations in the present. And what the hell are you doing dressed like that?"

"I'm going to fight. I have been," Eirika said calmly.

"She has proven to be no slouch," Hugh admitted.

"You understand," Marisa began, "that you will have no special treatment from me, correct? You are a soldier in my army, and I expect you to act like it."

Eirika nodded, "As you wish, Lady General."

"And enough of that. Everyone is to refer to me as either General or ma'am. You will all pass that along, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," several voices echoed in unison.

"But this still brooks the question," Briggid finally piped up, "of what to do until we have more Generals. Do we promote people who do not have enough talent or leadership ability?"

"Lord General Lloyd is on his way here," the Mantled General said. "Other soldiers from all over Ylisse will be flooding in. But until then, we shall have to make do with mercenaries."

Hugh and Briggid expressed expressions of surprise while Klein merely looked thoughtful. Eirika stood silently, knowing that such matters were not her expertise. It was Canas though, who asked the question everyone was thinking, "Is that most wise?"

"It is our only option. I need someone to lead the Pegasus Knights we have," Marisa said. "And that brings me to the next topic. Canas, what are our standings soldierwise?"

The older man reached into a satchel that was over his shoulder and pulled out several sheets of paper. "We have a total of fifteen thousand soldiers. Seven thousand spearmen, three thousand swordsmen, two thousand cavaliers, a thousand Pegasus and two thousand archers."

"Only that many archers?" Marisa raised an eyebrow. Ylisse was known for its archers. In Mira's history, every notable archer was Ylissean. Klein and Briggid were living proof of the kind of archers Ylisse could produce.

"We expect more to arrive," Canas said. "I estimate that we have twenty five percent of the total Ylissean Army. More will come."

"Do you have estimates on Valm?"

"They have similar numbers to us as well," the tactician continued. "Unfortunately, it is likely that they will get reinforcements. And more than us."

"Do you know their leader? Is it General Steelwind?" Marisa asked, curious about Valm's most famous General. Last Marisa had heard he'd been assigned to the Feroxi Campaign.

"No, thank Naga," Canas said. "It is General Linus."

"Good," Marisa said. Someone she knew how to fight. This was a war she could win. "Canas, you and I are going to devise a battle plan. Hugh and Klein, you two are going to organize our troops for an inspection. I want to see what we have. You two are dismissed."

Klein bowed and left the room. Hugh hesitated as if he wanted to say something. But the General changed his mind and left.

"I'm sorry about my son," Canas said. "He tried very hard to win this war, but he wanted to do it without losing men and women. I tried to tell him that was foolishness, but he wouldn't listen. I should have pressed harder…"

"He's a fine enough soldier," Marisa said. "And I think he'll be fine General, given time. But issuing orders are not his expertise, even if he thinks it is."

"What will you have me do, General?" Briggid asked.

"I want you to scout out the enemy fortifications. Report back to me with your best estimate of their numbers, supplies and defenses. Dismissed."

Briggid nodded and left like the other two.

"And what would you have me do?" Eirika asked. "I could manage a menial task."

Before Marisa could reply, a soldier entered the room. He saluted, and then said, "Messenger to see you, Lady General!"

"From where?"

"The capital, ma'am!"

"I'll be back," Marisa said. "Eirika, do anything Canas says. Help him plan if you have some tactical knowledge."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The soldier led Marisa out of the building and down one of the pathways in the fortress camp. With the arrival of so many new soldiers, tents were beginning to be set up for newcomers while more barracks could be built. Inside one of the tents was where Marisa met the messenger.

Whoever it the messenger was wore only black. A hood obscured their face.

A Hand.

One of the Hand's hands reached up and pulled back his hood. "General Marisa, I hope you are having good fortune here at the Ruins?"

"Legault," Marisa said, surprised. "I had no idea you were a Hand. But I thought your identities were a secret to only be known by the Queen?"

"Those times are over," Legault said, adjusting his long lavender hair that was held by a headband. "Peace time is when spies are needed for sneaking. War is for assassins, and assassins get noticed. Or at least, the Hands do."

"Where is the Queen? She should have shown up by now," Marisa asked.

"I think the Queen's Warp Staff malfunctioned," Legault said, despair in his voice. "I have a hunch of where she is from something Princess Lissa told me."

"Damn," swore Marisa. "Do you have news from the capital before you go?"

"I do, and it's good news," Legault said. "An army has been massing in Ylisstol. But the Valmese in the capital aren't coming here to wipe you out. They're not large enough to do any damage to your force. They'll likely patrol the countryside. You don't have to worry about an attack from your undefended side."

Marisa breathed a sigh of relief. Valm could easily wipe them out with an army from the Ylissean side. With little defense, a coordinated attack between the two armies would have crushed Ylisse's last hope. And that meant Valm didn't consider Ylisse to be a threat.

Marisa would make them regret that.

"And I've got something else you'll like. The Hands have been recruiting for you. Soldiers will start flooding in more heavily. I've got word from Lord Pent Reglay, Duke of Etruria, that he's coming with a legion of mages, or somewhere around that."

"A legion?" Marisa parroted, amazed. That was five thousand more troops.

"And there's a little force coming to assist you personally tomorrow. The Shepherds are on their way," Legault said, his mouth curling into a smirk.

"You're serious?" Marisa said, with about as much emotion as Marisa ever displayed. Which was quite little, but more than none.

"Completely," Legault smirked. Then his smile fell, "But I have bad news as well. The Four Cornerstones are coming to back up the Valmese in your fight."

"Shit," Marisa said, all emotion receding. That was not good.

Legault walked to the door of the tent. He pulled his hood up and said, "I've tarried here too long, but I thought you needed to hear that. Win this war, General. I'll take care of the Queen."

"May Naga speed you on your quest."

"I never was much of a believer," Legault shrugged. "But I have a feeling if she exists, she'll want to help out the Queen of her chosen country."

"Make haste. Bring her here when you've saved her."

"Understood." Then he left.

**『』**

Emmeryn had known that the work she would be doing would be hard. She was a prisoner, it was to be expected.

But this turned out to be much worse than she expected.

Within the camp, there was a mine. Experienced Valmese miners worked in the caves, hunting for some mineral that Emmeryn did not know.

The prisoners' jobs were to take all the rocks out of the mine and take them outside of the camp. There, prisoners who were in charge of building buildings would take them back into the camp and continue their work.

The whole thing was pointless.

When Emmeryn asked Maris about it, the woman grumbled. "It's to keep us busy. They want us doing something pointless. Just do what you're told and we'll be fine. Bide your time."

The Dreamseer sighed and nodded. She, Maris and Gonzales pulled carts filled with stone outside the camp. The miners used magic to break up rocks, so inside the carts were boulders, not pebbles.

Each day the hours carried on slower than Emmeryn had ever known. Every second was a minute, every minutes was an hour and every hour, an eternity.

And on top of that, they were barely fed. Ten minutes for a midday meal, and then back to work.

The Warden made sure to personally oversee most of the tasks the prisoners did. Jerme was always watching, the prisoners would say. Some even said his eyes could pierce stone.

Emmeryn knew it wasn't true, but the way his crazed gaze would linger on her triggered shivers.

And on the day Gonzales got whipped for helping Emmeryn when she fell over, the fair haired woman swore she'd escape.

Even if she died trying.

She prayed for a long time that night. For a vision, or something to guide her away from the horrid camp.

If Naga heard her, she didn't show it.

**『』**

The Vanisher was on edge the entire morning. Would that vision happen today? And how soon, an hour from now? Two?

"You're awfully tense," Sain observed while saddling his Chocobo. The three had finished breakfast and prepared to leave. The sun had not yet risen over the distant mountaintops.

"Just nervous, I guess," Matthew said honestly. "You never know what's out on the plains."

"True," Sain said. "But on the plains you can see danger coming."

"Oi! Slowpokes, let's go!" Leila said impatiently. The sun illuminated a single tall mountain in the distance. "That's Mount Prism, our destination. We might be able to reach it in two days, so hurry up."

Sain took one last glance at his old outpost before climbing onto the Chocobo with a swift jump. Matthew however, had much more trouble getting on.

"Ah, Matthew! How will you ever impress the ladies if you can't mount a Chocobo?" Sain said, aghast. "Let me show you." He quickly demonstrated how to climb onto the Chocobo's back with ease.

"Here's how to handle a Chocobo," Sain began. "It's just like a horse, except these birds respond to commands. If you want your Chocobo to go, say go!"

Sain realized his mistake too late and the Chocobo began to run. Matthew grinned and said, "Go!"

The yellow bird squawked and took off. As his mount picked up speed, Matthew felt the wind pick up as he fought the breeze. He quickly caught up to Sain, and Leila was only a few paces behind them.

"You were right, these things are fast!" Leila shouted towards Sain.

"Did the lady doubt me?" Sain said with mock hurt. "You wound me!"

"Quiet you," Matthew said, but grinned none the less.

The wind roared in his ears, making it hard to hear his two companions for a moment. He turned his head to hear them better.

They both looked at him and at the same time said, "Did you hear that!?"

Perhaps that wasn't the wind.

"Dragon!" Matthew yelled.

"Don't be absurd!" Sain responded. "Dragons don't venture into the plains!"

But the green knight would be wrong with that statement. Matthew looked behind them and squinted. The brown mass he saw certainly was growing bigger.

"Behind us! Ride!" Matthew shouted in panic. If they could outrun the beast, then that future would never come to pass.

"Dammit, he's right!" Leila yelled after taking a look herself. She looked down at the Chocobo and shouted, "Go! Go!"

"Faster!" Sain said, snapping the reigns. His Chocobo squawked and picked up its pace. Matthew did the same and their Chocobos matched speeds.

Only Leila's Chocobo couldn't keep it up.

"Leila!" Matthew shouted.

"Move, you damn bird!" the Nightwatch screamed.

The ground shook. Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw a giant lizard that was much closer than it was before. The thing didn't have wings, but it could run.

It closed the distance between itself and Leila in ten seconds. It opened its mouth to breath fire, just as it had in the vision.

_No._

The one word resonated like a boulder dropped in the ocean. The Vanished disappeared.

He appeared on Leila's Chocobo. A surprisingly accurate jump for him. But a well-timed improbable accuracy. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and disappeared again.

_Bam!_

Matthew's second reappearance was not as nicely done. The two were in the air above the ground and fell a few feet.

The dragon's fire engulfed the Chocobo, its screams scaring the other Chocobos away. Sain was forced to jump off his.

"Are you okay?" Matthew breathed heavily, his pulse echoing in his head.

"I…thank you," Leila said, still shaken.

"I hate to break up the moment, but—!" Sain shouted as he ran around the beast and out of the way of its fire.

Its distraction with Sain allowed Matthew to examine the dragon for the first time. The lizard had brown scales the color of dirt. It didn't have wings, but to spines protruding from the head and back made it look threatening enough. Wicked claws sprouted from the feet, each nearly as big as Matthew.

The dragon turned on them, ignoring Sain. It stared them head on, and Matthew drew the Avvenire. Leila stood up and said, "I'll distract it. Get on its back!"

Matthew vanished from sight as the dragon roared. An instant later, he appeared on the dragon's head. It had been the closest part of the dragon to him.

And the lizard did  _not_ appreciate that.

The Vanisher managed to grab hold of a spine while it shook its head. Hanging on for dear life, he screamed.

_Clang!_

"Over here!" Sain shouted, stabbing the lizard's leg with his lance. The beast rounded on him quicker than the knight expected. "Oh shit!"

Fire scorched the earth where Sain stood a second ago. Leila tackled him out of the way, displaying speed Matthew didn't know she was capable of.

"See how you like this!" Matthew shouted, stabbing the Avvenire straight down into the dragon's head.

It bounced off.

"Dammit," Matthew muttered. But while the blade didn't enter the dragon's head, it still felt it. The brown scaly head reared back, flinging Matthew into the air. The dragon brought its head up and opened its mouth, waiting for a meal to fall in.

Matthew disappeared, reappearing much closer to the dragon's mouth. He fell into its throat, passed the sharp teeth.

"If I can't get you from above, then I guess I'll get you from below!" Matthew said as he stabbed into the pink soft flesh inside the beast's mouth, straight into the dragon's brain.

The roar that followed blew out Matthew's ears. It left him deaf as the dragon toppled over, dead.

And out of the mouth tumbled Matthew.

"That was the craziest thing I've ever seen," Sain said, looking at spit covered Matthew in amazement.

"Using your Mantle in an unexpected way. Very clever, Anna would be proud," Leila smirked.

"Heh…I meant to go back to its head and go for the eyes," Matthew grinned weakly.

Leila frowned, "Then we've got some training to do tonight. We're going to get you control over your Mantle."

"That certainly sounds fun," Sain said. "Can I help?"

"I think I can find a job for you," Leila smiled. "You can throw things at Matthew."

"Huzzah…" Matthew said, unenthusiastically.

 


	5. Paths Merge

**Chapter 5  
Paths Merge**

**『』**

At last, Cath broke out of her dreams.

However long she had been asleep, it had been like nothing else Cath had experienced. Dreams plagued her mind. Vivid dreams of people she did not know.

And not all were good.

"I'm glad you're awake. I was getting impatient," spoke a rough voice.

Cath's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright in the bed she slept in. Her surroundings flashed before her eyes, a posh room where fancy furniture was scattered about.

"You can call me Navarre," said the man who leaned against one of the walls in the bedroom. He had been the one at the fight where she had…

Navarre wore red, the color of blood. Long black hair extended down his back, almost to his waist. His red tunic was cut in several places below the waist, allowing for maximum mobility. Around his waist was a thick belt that held his sword and coin purse. On his arms, he wore black gloves that extended slightly past his wrists. His black pants were as dark as the night, and he wore a pair of short boots, also the color of black.

He pointed one of his gloved hands at the mirror on the wall. "Look," he commanded. "Become familiar with yourself."

Cath climbed out of the bed and walked to the mirror. As she did, she tried to remember anything. Her mind drew up massive blanks.

She looked in the mirror and recognized her clothes as hers. They appeared to be repaired in a couple places.

But the gold colored eyes…that felt off.

"Why can I not remember anything?" Cath asked the man in red. Cath…yes, that was her name.

"Master Ephidel locked away your memories," Navarre said. "He will release them once he has confirmed your loyalty."

Strangely, Cath didn't seem to care. It was as if she couldn't feel anything. And maybe she couldn't.

"And to what would I be loyal to?" Cath narrowed her eyes in the mirror, the gold color giving her a fearsome expression.

"Valm," he said simply.

"Fine," Cath accepted, not caring. "Why are you here?"

"That ritual that Magister Ephidel conducted made you into what you are: a Morph. When two people with Snap-Mantles are forced to fight to the death, the one who wins gets the power of two Mantles provided the correct dark magic is implemented. You are a Coinshot and a Seeker. And it is my job to teach you how to use your Coinshot powers."

"Then it seems that I have two Mantles to perfect," Cath said, forcing herself into a false smirk. Since when had emotions become so…difficult? She could faintly remember being a happy person, not emotionless.

"Indeed, which is why we're starting now," Navarre said.

**『』**

"It's a pity we don't have some sort of way to get the hide off this thing," Sain said, patting the side of the dragon.

"Why is that?" Matthew said, shivering. He'd taken one of the two Chocobos and ridden it to a river where he'd jumped in. So instead of being covered with dragon spit, he was drenched. The latter was admittedly better.

"It would sell for a lot of money," shrugged Sain.

"Too bad," Leila agreed. "But we shouldn't dwell on what we can't change. We still have daylight left."

"We only have two Chocobos left," Matthew reminded the other two. "We need to decide who's riding with who."

"I'll gladly allow dame Leila to ride with me on my Chocobo!" Sain said with a smile.

Leila rolled her eyes and said, "Matthew, I'm riding with you. I can't trust Sain's hands not to wander."

"Hey!" Sain said, insulted. Leila laughed, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"We should go, in that case," Matthew said. Using the skills he learned that morning, he mounted the Chocobo without help.

"Look at you!" Sain said, laughing. "You learn quickly."

The Vanisher extended a hand down to Leila. The red haired woman grabbed it tightly and pulled herself up onto the Chocobo.

And hurled Matthew to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Leila said immediately.

"That seemed on purpose," grumbled Matthew. He stood up and began to mount the bird again.

"Guilty," smirked Leila, trying to smother a laugh. "I wanted to be the one holding the reigns."

"You could have just asked," complained Matthew.

"Are you two always like this?" Sain asked, his bird walking over and standing adjacent to them.

"Sometimes."

"Yes."

Matthew and Leila exchanged glances and chuckled. "Anyway," Leila said. "We should go."

The Chocobo began to run at the word 'go.' Leila nearly was flung off and so was Matthew since he held onto her around the waist.

"Fucking Chocobos!" Leila nearly screamed.

Sain almost fell out of  _his_  saddle with laughter. "Go!" he yelled, between laughs.

**『』**

Marisa dismounted from her horse once she was outside the tavern. This was the third village she'd visited in hopes of finding mercenaries of sufficient quality.

Fortunately, there were enough villages nearby that Marisa had options. Not the best, but hopefully that would change on her third try.

Marisa walked through the open doorway into the tavern. It was still early in the day, so the night crowd hadn't arrived. It was the perfect time for finding mercenaries.

The few heads in the tavern turned when she stepped in. It wasn't often that someone as richly dressed as Marisa entered a common tavern.

"I'm looking for any mercenaries that are here for hire," she said, her voice piercing the silence.

"Over here," a woman said, raising her hand. Marisa nodded and pulled up a chair by the table that the blue haired woman sat at.

"My name is Farina," she said. "What do you need a mercenary for?"

Farina was shorter than Marisa. Her hair was much shorter compared to the General's. The blue hair had a thin white cord running through it around Farina's head. It kept the hair out of her eyes. The Pegasus knight wore a black shirt-dress that ended around her mid-thighs like a skirt. Across her chest was a breastplate that was a deep shade of blue. On her left shoulder, a piece of armor covered her shoulder. In addition on her left arm, she wore a blue glove that came up rather far on her arm whereas on her right arm she wore no glove, but had a white strip of cloth wound around her wrist. Around her waist, a belt hung somewhat tightly and on said belt a knife was strapped. Farina wore boots that were some sort of hybrid between boots and stockings, for they came up to a few inches below where her dress ended. They were blue in color, just like much of her attire. In her left hand she held a spear that had a long red ribbon tied to the shaft.

"What can you do?" Marisa asked while sitting down.

"I'm a Pegasus Knight from the Feroxi province of Ilia," she said. "I'm good at what I do."

"Which is?"

"Killing."

"How about leading?" Marisa said, folding her hands on the table.

"I once was the captain of a wing of Pegasus Knights before I turned mercenary," Farina said. "I could do it again, for the right price."

"Price is of no object," Marisa dismissed. "I need a Pegasus Knight who can lead the thousand or so other Pegasus Knights I have in my command."

"A thousand?" Farina blurted out, losing the composure she had. "Who the hell are you?"

"Marisa, Mantled General of Ylisse," she said coldly. "Is that a problem?"

Farina shook her head, "Not if the price is good. I suppose I'm getting recruited for a war?'

"Indeed," Marisa said. "Can you be ready to leave in half an hour?"

"Hold your Pegasi!" Farina said. "If you're hiring me, then you'll need to hire my friend as well. We've always worked together, and we shall continue to do so."

"Where is this friend of yours?" the pink haired woman asked, looking around the tavern for anyone else that might resemble a mercenary.

"She's right over there," Farina said, pointing towards a table of card players. Marisa only saw men sitting at the table. But one of them shifted in his seat and exposed a very short orange haired woman.

"Oi! Lalum! We've got a contract!" shouted Farina. The woman turned and nodded at Farina. She stood up, apologizing to the card players, and walked over to Farina.

Compared to Farina, Lalum looked quite short. She wore a grey shirt that cut down at a V towards her chest. At her mid chest she wore an underbust bodice. It was made of hardened leather, serving as armor for her lower chest, an area she as a mage would find hard to protect. Around her belt were several pouches, ranging in size between tome sized and money pouch sized. Like her shirt, Lalum's pants were made of cloth, though not grey, but brown. On her arms were leather gloves, the kind that were specifically made to be resistant to magic attacks. Perfect for mages when they casted spells. Around her neck was a blue cape that was meant for a taller person, meaning it dragged on the ground. Lalum's orange hair was kept in a pony tail that was hanging down her back.

"What type of contract?" Lalum asked, smiling towards Marisa.

"War," Farina explained. "We're fighting for Ylisse. And we leave within the hour with our employer."

"It's a pleasure to meet you…?" Lalum said, turning towards Marisa again.

"Marisa, Mantled General of Ylisse," she supplied again.

"Damn," Lalum said, surprising Marisa. "A bigshot like you is hiring commoners like us?"

"I'm in need of a Pegasus Knight of sufficient caliber," Marisa said. "And apparently I have to hire you as well."

"You won't be disappointed," Lalum declared. "I'm a fire mage. Tell me what you want burnt, and it'll be gone in an instant!"

"Great," Marisa said, not enjoying the younger woman's enthusiasm. "Let's leave as soon as we can. I've got an army to lead."

**『** **Ten Years Ago** **』**

Everyone had heard the news.

The King was dead. Long live the Queen.

At age seventeen, Emmeryn was ascending to the throne. And all Heather could do was be there for her.

Whenever she could be, at least.

"We should not allow the Queen to appear weak," Faval Lowell, Heather's father, said. "King Cornelius was a strong man. But what will our enemies think when a woman who hasn't even reached adulthood takes the throne?"

"What are you suggesting?" Heather asked.

"I want you to advise the Queen to take a husband," Faval said. "It is for the best. Plegian aggression has increased of late, and we must appear united."

"Who do you have in mind?" Heather asked, numbly. Emmeryn would never agree to this. And here her father was, throwing his daughter into the middle of the mess.

"Your older brother, Klein," Faval said.

"No," Heather said immediately.

"What?" Faval said, growing angry.

"I'm saying no, I won't help you. If you want to manipulate her majesty, do it yourself," Heather said, surprising herself with the conviction she spoke with.

Faval growled, "Daughter, I am your father. You will do what I say."

"I don't think I will," she said as she left her father's study.

Her father hadn't always been like this. King Cornelius' death had shaken him, making him want to protect Ylisse at all cost. Heather disagreed with his methods. They rarely got along as of late.

Though Heather disagreed with everyone that tried to get to Emm through her.

Before she knew it, the noblewoman's feet carried her to the courtyard. One of her brothers, Klein, was practicing with his bow. He'd make a fine archer someday, their father would say.

"Come to watch, sister?" he asked, offering her a smile. Heather nodded, having nothing better to do. She couldn't go see Emmeryn. Chrom was probably training, as he'd started to show an interesting in swordplay.

And Lissa was…

Heather should go see Lissa. The girl probably needed the company.

"For now," she answered Klein. "You better impress me."

Klein laughed and resumed his shooting. Heather watched, happy for something that could take her attention away. She cheered when Klein hit the center, and mocked him when he didn't. Typical of the siblings.

"Is this really the best use of your time?" a soft voice spoke while Klein retrieved his arrows.

Heather bolted up and turned around, her hands forming fists. But there was no danger, only Legault.

Legault had a long faded navy cloak wrapped around him that hung open. His long lavender hair cascaded down it while a strip of cloth around his forehead kept it out of his eyes. Over his blue shirt and under the cloak, Legault wore leather armor that was perfect for a man of stealth. A thick belt wrapped around his waist where two knifes were sheathed in an X. The feature that set Legault apart from others was the two thin scars that ran down his face through his left eye.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be watching Emmeryn?" Heather asked, irritated. It always was a mystery to her why Legault had such a say in her friend's protection.

"I've got other people watching her," he said. Heather could only think of one word to describe his voice: stealthy. "I'm here to talk to you."

"About?" she asked, straight to the point.

"You should try working on being more subtle. I'm sure Queen Emmeryn would find it more attractive," Legault smirked.  _Bastard,_  he knew. "Walk with me."

He started off without her. But the tall man knew she'd follow. That's just who Heather was. Curious.

"I've noticed you like to be protective about her majesty," he observed calmly.

Heather remained silent, waiting for Legault to get to the point.

"But could you really protect her if the time came when she was in danger?" he raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her.

"…No," Heather muttered.

"I thought not. I can offer you a job where you can do just that. And actually learn how to protect her. I've just got one question, are you willing to do anything for the Queen? Not Ylisse, the Queen."

"Yes," Heather said immediately.

"Conviction, good. That and your Mantle will serve you well."

Heather froze. No one knew about her Mantle. Not even her siblings or her father.

"You hide it well, don't worry. I've got a Seeker in my group. Seekers can tell who has Mantles or Snap-Mantles, and what kind of Mantle they have," Legault said. "So you're a Shadowstrider. A very nice Mantle to have."

"More like a Ghost Mantle's bastard kid," Heather snarled.

"Such language from a lady," Legault chuckled. "We'll fix that. And I'll teach you how to really use that Mantle."

"What do you want?" Heather asked, rounding on Legault.

"Join the Hands," he said softly. "I'm one as well. We will train you and the others to become the best assassins, spies and soldiers on Mira."

"You're lying," accused Heather.

Legault reached up to the top of his shirt and pulled it down so Heather could see what was tattooed over his heart. A black mark of the Naga, the mark of Ylisse.

"I am a Hand of her majesty, one of several," Legault said. "Will you join?"

In that tattoo, Heather saw purpose. She saw a powerful woman.

She saw herself with Emm.

"I'm in," she said, grinning faintly.

"We've got work to do," Legault said, shaking her hand.

**『』**

Night fell. The whips stopped.

All quieted.

Emmeryn stood up from her cot. She crept as quietly as she could past all the other sleeping prisoners.

_Give me a way out of this camp,_ Emmeryn silently prayed.  _I have served you loyally for my life. All I ask is to leave this place, Naga._

When she reached the door that would lead outside, a hand fell onto her shoulder. The Dreamseer nearly screamed before Maris covered her mouth.

"What in hell are you doing?" she hissed.

"I'm going to escape," Emmeryn said stubbornly. "I'm not staying here any longer."

"Fuck that," Maris said louder. "You're out of your mind." The purple haired woman grabbed her and pulled her away from the door.

"What are you doing?" Emmeryn asked, aghast.

"There are two guards that would kill you if you tried to escape right outside that door," Maris said. "And if they didn't kill you, you'd go straight to the Hole."

"Where?"

Maris shook her head, "See, you don't know a damn thing. If you're going to try and escape, you'll need me. But not tonight, this will require some planning."

"Fine," Emmeryn grudgingly agreed.

**『』**

"Why are we on a building?" Cath asked, irritated.

The building in question towered above all the others near it. The sun began to set on the buildings, not allowing Cath to see the city's beauty.

"Training," supplied Navarre. "Welcome to Excelsum, capital of Valm."

Cath shrugged, not caring.

"In case you don't know, a Coinshot is a Mantle that can push against metal. For example," Navarre held up a coin. The last remaining sunlight reflected off of it. The man in red held his hand out and the coin began to float in the air just above his hand.

"Or I can do this!" Navarre said, pointing his hand downward. The coin shot faster than an arrow and smashed through the roof of the house.

Cath blinked her gold eyes, "Impressive."

"Ready to learn?" Navarre smirked.

"Yes," Cath said without emotion.

**『』**

Marisa rode into the Fort Obice with Farina and Lalum riding the former's Pegasus above her. When the pink haired woman arrived, she found nearly half of her entire army outside looking at something.

Whatever it was, it could wait. "Button your uniforms!" barked Marisa. "From this point forward, anyone who is wearing a uniform that does not meet my standards shall be punished! Is that understood?"

A general grumbling could be heard from everyone who heard her declaration.

"I said,  _is that understood!?"_ shouted Marisa.

"Yes, ma'am!" replied the startled troops.

"Good," Marisa said. "Everyone who just heard now has the responsibility of informing every patrol, squad and legion of this army. If I see another person without their uniform properly put on, not only will they get ten lashes, but you  _all_ will get twenty! Go to!"

"Ma'am!" they replied, scared. Marisa's lip curled into a hint of a smirk. Their fear would turn to respect after their first battle with her at the army's head.

"Are you always this scary?" Farina asked as she landed next to her.

Marisa ignored Farina. "You!" she called to one of the people who had already had his uniform correctly on.

"Ma'am?" he saluted.

"What is everyone out here for?" she asked.

"The Shepherds," he explained. "Master Canas suggested that some of the army be waiting out here to meet them. About half of us are here, ma'am."

"Hmm…" Marisa frowned. Half of their army? What if they were attacked?

Those thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting, "I see them!"

Marisa looked out over the landscape to see a group of men and women walking their way. Only a few of them were on horseback. They had likely walked from wherever they came from.

The Shepherds were Ylisse's elite fighting force. Three hundred members that were better than any in the land. Except for Generals like Marisa.

In five minutes, the Shepherds were at the camp without slowing their steady pace. The army parted for them, gazing at the buff fighters to the sleek mages.

Marisa worked her way to the back of the group where the Shepherds would break through the mob. Thankfully, she arrived before they broke out of the army.

"General Marisa," a voice called out as the Shepherds emerged.

"Captain Raven," she replied. "You don't know how good it is to see you."

Captain Raven's red hair complimented his beaten up longcoat. The bottom portion of the coat was ripped away somewhat evenly. At his waist was a think belt that kept his coat from hanging open. Tied to that belt was a small sword belt that hung loosely and provided a place for Raven to put his sword. Both Raven's boots and his pants had seen better days, the white was not so white and the brown was faded respectively. But Raven's extremely tall appearance, bulging muscles and threatening demeanor bid no good news—for anyone.

"I brought all three hundred of us," he said, gesturing to the men and women behind him. "Tell us where, and we will go fight and die for Ylisse."

"You're just in time then," Marisa said. "Follow me."

**『』**

"What is this place?" Matthew asked Leila as their Chocobos ran across a barren landscape.

"This is the Ure," Leila replied over the rush of the wind. "One of three locations of battle during the divine war several millennia ago."

Nothing grew on the rocky landscape. Pieces of earth were jarred up, pointing every which way as if an earthquake had thrown them into the air. The Chocobos were able to jump over any holes and chasms they passed.

"What happened?" Matthew wondered. "What could cause this level of destruction?"

"No one knows," Sain said. He rode adjacent to them. "But if you ask me, this is the power of a god. King Marth probably called down the power of Naga to smite the enemies."

"Local legend has it that Marth's army hid in the shadow of the Mount Prism while fire rained from the sky," Leila said.

"Our destination is below Mount Prism, is it not?" Sain asked.

"Directly ahead," Leila called out. "We'll be there within an hour!"

**『』**

"Two weeks of waiting," Jill commented as she cleaned off the bar as the sun went down. It was the lull between the night crowd and the dinner crowd.

"The person will come. A man in red, the Queen told me," Heather said, drinking from her mug.

"If you say so," Jill shrugged.

"What, are you getting tired of having a bed mate?" Heather grinned. Jill merely rolled her eyes.

A comfortable silence eased in. Almost as soon as when the sun went down, the door to the tavern opened.

Three people walked in, a knight in green, a woman in purple and a man clad in a red cloak of sorts.

Red.

Heather watched the three approached the bar to speak with Jill. "What can I do for you three?" Jill asked.

"Two rooms," the purple woman said. "And a meal."

"That can be arranged, take a seat," she said and went into the back of the tavern.

The three sat down at the nearest table. Heather picked up her drink and walked over to their table and took the fourth seat.

"Ah!" the green one exclaimed. "The fair maiden is so attracted to me that she comes to sit over here! What a happy day!"

The Hand rolled her eyes and said, "I've got a job offer for you three. I know you've probably got urgent business of some sort, but I'm willing to pay."

"We'll hear you out, if you answer a question of ours," the purple one said suspiciously.

"Deal."

"Is there a Seer in this town who can locate a person's whereabouts?" she asked.

Heather nodded. Jill had mentioned it once. "Something of the sort. But she only sees visitors every three days. You missed it today."

"Dammit," said the one in red.

"On the contrary," Heather said. "I think this works out well. I'd like to hire the three of you to accompany me up the mountain. I guarantee to get you back within two days."

"Why do you need to go up the mountain?" the green one asked with interest.

"I'm looking for something," Heather said honestly. Emmeryn had said to find a weapon, and Heather had a pretty good idea where it was. She'd found the door that lead into the heart of the mountain a few days ago. But there was something about the red man she needed to open that door.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Heather Lowell, Baroness of the Lowell estates," she said.

"Lady Lowell," she began, "how much would you be willing to pay us? Getting inconvenienced would not be good for us."

"I'm prepared to pay you twenty thousand gold," she said.

"Are you serious?" the red one asked, astounded.

"Do you swear that on your honor?" the woman asked.

"I swear on my honor as a noble," Heather swore.

"I'm Leila," the red haired woman said. "That's Sain," she pointed at the green armored man. "And that's Matthew."

"A pleasure to meet you all," Heather said.

Matthew opened his mouth to say something. He never got the chance to as screams rose up from outside.

"Fiends!" shouted a voice before it was cut off by the howl of a beast.

Heather was standing in an instant. She drew the short sword from its sheath at her belt and bolted out the door.

In the street, several townsfolk were running for their lives. A smaller number had weapons and were fighting the beasts.

The Fiends were wolf-like creatures, Mauthedogs. With shaggy hair and teeth longer than any beasts like it, the Fiends were fearsome opponents. Quicker than most eyes could track, the Mauthedogs could run right up to a soldier and bite them in the leg, taking them down. Then they would swarm.

One of the Fiends charged Heather as soon as she stepped out of the Seventh Heaven. It snarled and jumped at her, closing the distance in seconds. It bared its fangs, spittle flying as it leapt.

Heather swung her sword and sliced it across the stomach. It fell back with a yelp, but still very much alive.

Matthew appeared behind it and stabbed his fancy sword into its head.

"Vanisher," she muttered. She hated Vanishers.

"Let's go," he said and ran at the other Mauthedogs. Leila and Sain followed suit as Heather shrugged. She had a Mantle too, and it was time to use it.

Shadowstrider.

The dimly lit area served Heather well. Her body became shrouded in shadows that only the brightest light could pierce.

But that wasn't all she could do.

Shadows pooled at a Mauthedog's feet. It growled, suddenly unable to move its paws. Heather was there before it could react and decapitated it.

"Behind you!" shouted Sain's voice. She thought it was Sain's at least.

Heather spun, but was too slow. A Mauthedog's claws raked across her shadow shrouded chest.

She grinned.

All the Fiend struck was shadows. Heather stepped back and followed up with a strike with her sword, killing the beast. A section of her chest where she'd been hit showed through the shadows, the purple of her shirt and white of her skin showed through the darkness.

The armor required absolute concentration to maintain, but it was damn useful. On the down side, she could only take a strike before it revealed parts of her like it did now.

"How did you survive that?" Leila shouted in question while stabbing a Fiend with her rapier.

"I'm a Shadowstrider!" Heather replied in kind.

"That explains it," she said. "I'm a Nightwatch, I couldn't see any of your shadows. Just you."

Heather's eyes widened. She'd have to remember that for later.

It didn't take long for the rest of the Mauthedogs to be put to the sword. They were rather fragile things, and one or two sword strokes generally was all that it took to end their lives.

"Strange for them to come this far down the mountain," Heather wondered aloud.

"Indeed," Sain agreed. "Mauthedogs usually prefer animals to humans. I can't imagine what would make them suddenly attack humans."

"Perhaps we'll find out on the mountain tomorrow," Matthew said.

Heather turned on him, "So you'll accompany me?"

"For that kind of money, absolutely," Leila grinned.

Sain laughed, "I don't know, I would have done it for lovely Heather here for free!"

"We'll take your share then," Matthew chuckled.

"Hey!"

Heather laughed. She cast one glance toward the mountain. That was her destination, per her Queen's orders.

Little did she know, what she would find there would not only be a weapon in the traditional sense.

**『』**

"Tomorrow, this war starts," Marisa said.

Her new force stood in front of her. Generals Hugh, Klein, Briggid and Captain Raven and Farina. Master Canas and Lady Eirika stood in the back with Farina's friend Lalum.

"Briggid, do you have anything to report?" Marisa asked.

"I couldn't get too close without alerting patrols. But the Valmese are quiet," she said in her gruff voice. "They're waiting for their reinforcements. If we hit hard enough, we might be able to force them out of their fort. Then we could fight the reinforcement army from a better position."

"Excellent," Marisa said. "Given the geography of the Ruins of Animas, we can't plan a surprise attack. So when the Valmese come out to meet us, we will out play them."

"We're going to flood the canyons with our soldiers and fight our way to them. As that happens, I will personally lead a party of soldiers across the plateaus and seek out General Linus," Marisa said.

"Sounds simple," Raven commented, crossing his arms.

"Gather around the map then," Marisa said with the smallest hint of a smile. "And let me show just how wrong you are."


	6. Bathing In Blood

**Chapter 6  
Bathing In Blood**

**『』**

Battles at the Ruins of Animas were fought in two locations. Part of the battle would take place in the twisting chasms. Narrow areas where sometimes only one hundred soldiers could stand next to each other were the battlefield. Some of the large chasms allowed for more movement, but for the most part the area was confined.

The second area of battle were the plateaus. Nine plateaus ranging in size were scattered about the canyon. Durable, vast wooden bridges extended between some of the plateaus. Neither side would try and destroy them, the warring nations depended on them too much to destroy even one of them.

Marisa watched her army mobilize from atop Fort Obice's front wall. Twelve thousand men and women of her army would be fighting today. A risky amount, but she needed to press General Linus. And the pink haired woman knew how her enemy operated under pressure.

"General!" saluted Klein. "The troops are in position. My battalion is ready to make their way through the Winding Way."

"Are the Shepherds in position?" Marisa asked.

"Yes, their moving through Breakneck Pass as we speak," Klein replied.

The Winding Way was at the north edge of the battlefield and Breakneck Pass was at the southern edge. Marisa allowed herself a satisfied smile, "Give the order for the plateau soldiers to move out. Tell them to avoid the Dueling Level."

"Understood, ma'am!" he said and retreated to give her orders.

Marisa crossed her arms in thought. Now it was in the hands of Naga. Now it was Linus' turn to move.

**『』**

General Linus wore a brown longcoat. The coats were in style among the powerful. They were based off Arulian longcoats for their popularity, image and prestige. Linus' hair was a dirty orange. He had it slicked back out of his eyes. Under the longcoat, Linus' shirt came apart in a V, exposing a large part of his chest. A thick belt was around his waist, capable of holding up his huge sword in its sheath. And tied around his belt was a red piece of cloth.

"Sir, they've begun to move out. Shall I give the order to our forces to meet them?" the dour man beside him said.

"We can take them," Linus thought aloud. "General Marisa knows we have a better disciplined army. I wonder why..."

"Sir, the order?"

"Give the order and go through with the prearranged plan," commanded Linus. "Have our field commanders meet the enemy and engage until further notice. I will go meet Marisa in battle."

"And what of me?" the man beside him asked.

"Ex-General Orson of the Ylissean Army," Linus began, giving the man a look of disgust. "I despise people who sell out their friends. You're staying beside me so you don't get any ideas of betraying  _us,_ alright?"

The tall man had brown hair that looked just about the begin greying. Simple armor ordained his body, the color of white. A long green cape descended from his shoulders that billowed in the wind. Underneath the cape and armor, Orson wore a black tunic of high wealth. He'd been a successful knight and General of Ylisse before he turned colors.

"Can you beat the Mantled General? I hear only General Steelwind can match her," Orson commented, ignoring Linus' remark.

"I'm a Powerarm," Linus stated. "My Mantle is nothing weak, I can fight a Switcher like her."

"As you say," Orson bowed slightly.

**『』**

Baron Klein Lowell led his battalion of one thousand troops through the Winding Way. Just as its name implied, the northern edge of the canyon that was the Ruins of Animas was hardly straight. It bent and turned, making for an irritating battlefield.

"Sir, where are we heading?" an archer beside Klein asked.

"I suppose we're far enough out that I can say," Klein said confidently. "We're going to go through the Thunder Plains and meet the enemy in the Mid-Clearing."

"Oh, alright," the archer said. Clearly it made no sense to him.

"You're new, aren't you?" Klein asked.

"Yeah, I've been here for two weeks," he said.

"What's your name, kid?" Klein said without taking his attention away from walking at the forefront of his battalion.

"Wil, sir."

The brown haired youth stood taller than General Klein. He appeared to be a jovial man, his light colored clothing giving Klein the idea. He wore a blue shirt that was on the lighter side. There was a shoulder guard on his left shoulder. In the man's hands was a bow, steel and plainly made. The bow of a commoner who wasn't too badly off. Around his waist was a belt holding a quiver. Said quiver was stuffed full of arrows, typical of a Defense Archer. Wil wore white pants that were well worn and dirty as well as a pair of fine brown boots.

"Wil, it is common courtesy to have faith in your General," Klein said. "Don't bother asking me where we're going, just know that I can lead us where we have to go."

"Ah, I understand, General," he said, ashamed.

"Don't worry," Klein said. But whatever conversation he would have continued to have with Wil was halted by a shout.

"Ylisseans! Send up the signal!" shouted a man wearing red in front of them. A patrol.

"Fifty men!" Klein shouted, alerting his group. "Don't let their mages get off that signal!"

Klein leapt into motion before any of his soldiers could react. He was a War Archer, the highest rank an archer could be. Better yet, he was a man meant for the frontlines of an army.

Reaching to the quiver on his belt, Klein grabbed three arrows in his hand. Two held between his fingers, and on already on the bow, waiting to be fired.

A light of yellow lightning began to flash from the hands of a mage in the enemy patrol. Klein ignored his soldiers as they passed him, charging the Valmese. Before the mage could launch his spell, the arrow shot from his bow at the mage.

It struck the man in the neck, killing the man before he even knew he was dead. Within a single second, Klein had one of the arrows in his hand onto his bow. Pulling back the string so that the feathers tickled his cheek, he let the arrow free as it sailed toward the leader of the patrol.

The leader didn't stand a chance as the arrow burrowed into his eye. His screams echoed unfortunately loud, and the third arrow found its home half a second later in the man's open mouth, silencing him forever.

"…How did you do that?" Wil asked in amazement.

Klein blinked, he'd been slow and inaccurate. That second arrow should have killed the leader outright. "Let's go," Klein ordered.

Without paying any attention to Wil, Klein ran forward into the heart of the chaos of battle. Reaching into his quiver, he pulled out five arrows and held them in his firing hand.

Quickly drawing back the bow string, Klein didn't bother holding the bow up and aiming. At this distance, it was impossible to miss.

_Twang!_

An arrow killed a soldier that was going to cut down one of Klein's men.

_Twang!_

Another found its home in the throat of another.

_Twang!_

_Twang!_

A man and a woman went down screaming.

_Twang!_

The last mage of the patrol fell, the arrow having pierced his tome that he had tried to shield himself with.

"There's the leader!" shouted a Valmese archer. He was pointing straight at Klein. Within seconds, he had his bow up near his eye and was aiming.

Klein had no time to reach for an arrow of his own.

The enemy archer fired. Klein focused on the approaching arrow. It flew directly at Klein; a good shot. The yellow haired General let tension leave his body as the arrow drew closer.

"General!" shouted Wil in warning.

What would happen next would make Wil never question anything General Klein ever did from then on.

The War Archer began to turn out of the way at the last moment. But it wasn't in advance enough for the arrow to miss Klein. But instead of hitting Klein, the yellow haired man reached with the reflexes of lightning and  _grabbed_ the arrow out of midair.

With the force of his turn, Klein spun around. As he did in the two seconds it took to do so, the General put the enemy's arrow on his bow. Once he was turned back toward the enemy archer, Klein fired the arrow.

The archer stood dumbfounded. The arrow punched straight through the chain mail he wore and pierced his heart.

The soldiers around him, enemy and friendly, stared at him in awe.

Klein took three arrows and fired them in a couple seconds, sending three more men to the ground.

With renewed vigor, his battalion fought the Valmese even harder.

**『』**

Captain Raven of the Shepherds looked up at the plateau from the ground below. The plateau was hundreds of feet above him.

He chuckled, what a place to end up in.

Sunlight finally graced his face as he and his three hundred soldiers stepped into the Mid-Clearing. It was a large area where the Valmese and Ylisseans frequently clashed in a more traditional style battle.

And a red mass of soldiers stood on the other side. Once they glimpsed Raven's Shepherds, they began to charge.

According to the plan.

"There are five thousand soldiers running toward us right now," Raven said loudly so all of his soldiers could hear. "Five thousand against our three hundred."

"Sounds fair to me!" shouted one of his soldiers. Amused chuckles passed through the Shepherds. Each one of them were veterans to the fullest degree.

"We will hold this gap, just like we were ordered to," Raven said. "We will meet these Valmese with our country in our hearts and their blood on our swords. Do not back down, and give no quarter."

"SIR!" shouted the Shepherds.

Raven smirked and drew his heavy broadsword. Now it was time for his three hundred men and women to do what they did best.

Not dying.

**『』**

"You might want to watch this," Marisa stopped the group she was traveling with. General Briggid was by her side. The yellow haired woman looked down into the Mid-Clearing.

Five, maybe six thousand Valmese soldiers were charging at the Shepherds. The distance between them was steadily closing.

"They'll get slaughtered," Briggid said, horrified. The soldiers around her mirrored her expression and voiced their own concerns.

"Maybe," Marisa said, shrugging. "But these are the Shepherds. And if the plan goes unhitched, they'll have assistance soon enough."

The thunder of cavalry could be heard even from the high elevation they watched from. Thousands of horses sped up as they drew closer to the Shepherds.

Not a single Shepherd flinched. Even from her height Marisa could tell they stood strong.

When cavalry charges happened, attackers and defenders both would flinch. It was human nature to brace yourself when a horse ran at you.

But not the Shepherds. Each was a veteran of dozens of battles. Cavalry was no intimidation tactic.

"Captain Raven has a well-disciplined group," Briggid commented.

"If only we could be closer," Marisa said. "I would have liked to see how he handles this. But I'm going to go fight Linus."

"Understood," Briggid replied.

**『』**

"Now!" shouted Hugh, raising his hand and pointing forward. From within the shadows that the plateau cast, his cavalry emerged.

Wind whipped through his hair and green coat as the horses stormed past him. As the last of the horses past him, its rider reached down and stretched out a hand. Hugh took it and flung himself onto the back of the horse.

Marisa's words from the night before echoed in his mind.  _"Prove to me that you can lead a charge into battle with yourself at the front, and only then will I respect you."_

Hugh had agreed, since the alternative would have been no command at all. And damn it, he was a General. Sir Orson had decided that before he disappeared.

"Get us to the front of the charge!" he shouted in the rider's ear.

"Hyah!" responded the knight, and his horse spurred forward with a crack of the reigns. Slowly, but surely he made his way to the front.

The Valmese quickly realized what they had been lured into. But the Shepherds didn't allow them any quarter. The five thousand Valmese were forced to divide their force in order to meet the incoming charge.

As Hugh's rider made his way to the front, the purple haired General watched Captain Raven in admiration.

The red haired man was a master of unseating horsemen. He'd either take the approach of killing a rider's horse, or he'd unseat them with a kick. Typically, such a kick would only be attempted from another horse.

But Raven didn't seem to care. He was able to jump high enough to get a solid kick into a soldier's stomach.

"Sir!" shouted the rider, getting Hugh's attention. They were at the front, without much time before the clash.

"Here we go," Hugh muttered. He held the tome in his hand tightly. Raising the other hand, he flexed his fingers.

The ether within him boiled. That was how he was able to describe it best. Hugh's outstretched hand began to glow with heat.

"Firaga!" he shouted. From his hand, a stream of flame flew forth. It morphed into a large fireball in the air. And when it struck the ground at the Valmese's feet, it exploded.

Screams rose from the Valmese, leaving them disorganized. The Ylisseans met the Valmese with the advantage on their side.

**『』**

"That was some fire spell," Lalum commented from the back of Farina's Pegasus.

"What do you mean?" the blue haired woman asked.

"That was a Firaga, I'm certain of that," Lalum said. "But that's a simple spell, and he put such power into it. Enough so to explode. I don't think I could do that."

The pair of mercenaries were up in the air. They and the thousand Pegasus Knights under Farina's command stayed in the very low cloud cover, waiting for orders. Thankfully, they were still in view of the battlefield.

"Maybe you should spar with him later," Farina suggested. "Perhaps we could charge him?"

"Doubtful," Lalum said, her orange hair and cape blowing with a strong gust of wind.

Farina's eyes caught a glimpse of a fireball shooting up at them from the ground. The signal.

The blue haired woman shouted, "That's our cue!"

But before they could fly down towards the Mid-Clearing like their plan had been, the roar of Wyverns filled the air.

From the clouds, red and green flying lizards flew forth. Valmese men and women in armor holding lances and sword attacked the Pegasus Knights.

"Wing Five!" shouted Farina. "Go assist the ground troops! Wings One through Four, to me!"

Farina pointed her lance forward and spurred her Pegasus forward into the onslaught of Wyverns. Her Wings followed her lead, assembling V formations. Lalum immediately began casting fire spells.

That alone sent the Valmese into confusion. A mage, riding on a Pegasus? Unheard of.

"Hyaaaaaaaaaah!" Farina screamed as her Pegasus shot forward, sending her lance straight into a Valmese. With practiced ease, Farina removed the lance and let the rider fall off his Wyvern and down to the battlefield below.

Her other Pegasus Knights met the Wyverns with similar success. The flying lizards may have had the advantage in power, but none could match a Pegasus in speed.

**『』**

"Interesting," Marisa commented as she looked to the sky. A fierce battle between her Pegasus Knights and the Wyverns of Plegia unfolded above her.

"General," Briggid began, "without the Pegasus Knights to assist, the Shepherds are going to be overrun."

"Probably not," Marisa muttered. "Take your archers with you and help them from up here. The enemies are in a mob, so aiming isn't an issue."

"Understood!" she saluted. General Briggid took her archers and began to make her way to where she could assist Captain Raven's forces.

"Ma'am, what do we do?" asked the four swordsmen that she left behind.

"You four are with me. We're going to kill a General," Marisa smirked.

**『』**

"A few snuck through," Eirika said.

"Hmm…" Canas scratched his chin in puzzlement. From on top of the front wall of Fort Obice he could see them drawing close. It couldn't be more than a patrol of fifty people.

Eirika turned to face the purple haired tactician, "Should I tell the archers to fire?"

"…No," Canas said softly. "Let me deal with them."

"You think you can defeat fifty people yourself, Master Canas?" Eirika asked, surprised.

Canas said nothing. He reached up and removed the monocle from his face. It would only get in the way, unfortunately.

"I am a Dark Magician," Canas said to Eirika. "My role in the army is not to cause some sort of mass wipeout of soldiers. I specialize in fear. It's fascinating, really."

"So you think you can scare them away from attacking us?" Eirika clarified.

"Oh no," Canas turned to her for the first time and displayed a cocky smirk that was uncharacteristic of him. "I intend to scare them away from ever being soldiers again."

"Better act quick," Eirika said. "It looks like they have a mage. She's probably their entry plan."

"Then I'll delay her. Permanently," Canas said, his voice returning to normal.

The purple haired man raised a hand. He focused on the female mage that led the enemy party while closing his weak eye.

Digging down into his ether within him, Canas felt the familiar swirl of Dark energy. Corrupt power that had once been the power of Fire. But he hadn't felt that in decades.

"Eclipse," Canas whispered. Dark energy left his hand, invisible to naked eye.

After only a few seconds, even a person with no magical capabilities could see what occurred. A sphere of darkness encompassed the mage. She had stopped in her tracks, the sphere prohibiting her from leaving.

Canas clenched his fist.

The sphere collapsed on itself. The woman inside faced the full brunt of the attack. And it resulted in a truly horrifying sight.

A minute previous, what had once been a woman standing tall and leading now was gasping on her knees, as if out of breath. Her very image looked decades older.

"What did you do?" Eirika asked quietly, sounding afraid.

"I cut her ether supply in half," Canas said. "Every creature has an innate ether quantity. Mages tend to have more, letting them tap into the surface ether for their spells. But when I cut it in half, the body does not know how to function." The tactician grimaced, "I understand it is…quite painful."

But as he had hoped, the rest of the soldiers stopped in their tracks. They didn't even see the attack until the last minute. Fear gripped their hearts.

"And now for the finale," Canas mumbled. He felt sick to his stomach about the next spell. Eclipse was horrifying in its own way, but his next spell…

"From the depths of the abyss," Canas chanted, "I call forth the power of all that is damned. Hel!"

The air itself darkened. Not the sky, not the sun, the air. Those who were nearby suddenly couldn't hear as well, like sound dampened.

At first, the fate of the soldiers wasn't apparent. A purple haze seemed to envelope the first ten in the group, and shortly after, it faded. Canas had to stop himself from looking away from what would come next.

The soldiers began to disintegrate.

Holes appeared in their arms, legs, chests and even heads. Pieces of their body slowly turned to ash. One of them even fell to his knees and coughed up a mouthful of ash onto the ground.

"What in Naga…?" Eirika trailed off, looking at Canas full of fright.

"They're all still alive," Canas said in a calm voice that went against everything he felt at the moment. "Hel cannot kill a man, not matter how you try. It will leave a person right at death's door without opening it. All ten of those men and women are lying there, still alive in their suffering."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Eirika said, her face looking exactly that.

"I wonder if their friends will do them the mercy of ending their lives…" Canas wondered aloud, his scholarly instinct prevailing per usual.

But that was interrupted by Eirika emptying her stomach behind him.

**『』**

"We're getting cornered!" Luke shouted to the Lieutenant.

"I can see that!" shouted Luke's superior as he stabbed a Ylissean in the chest, toppling him off his horse.

"Crap," Luke muttered, deflecting a sword from a Ylissean opponent of his own.

Luke had his green hair slicked back with a few strands lingering on his forehead. In one gauntleted hand he held a broadsword and in the other he held a sturdy shield. His body was covered in red plate armor, though he still had enough mobility to be lethal. Around his waist a fancy waistcape was tied with a beat up piece of cloth. The enthusiastic young man had yet to make his mark on the world.

And likely never would, going from the state of the battle.

"We need to retreat!" shouted Luke after he noticed three Valmese soldiers getting burnt to death by one mage. The purple haired man in green had literally conjured a tornado of flames and was fighting from within the conflagration.

"Never! We hold this position while there is breath in our lungs! Only death shall stop us!" shouted Luke's fanatical Lieutenant.

That declaration wouldn't hold much though. Only a minute later a Pegasus Knight swooped down and plunged a lance through the commanding officer.

And Luke, who was second in command, had been promoted.

"Retreat!" he shouted. "Retreat!"

"Our escape is blocked, sir!" shouted a nearby soldier.

"How!?" Luke shouted back while cleaving a Ylissean in half.

"Another force came around our back!" the Valmese soldier replied. But whatever information he might have had was lost to an arrow in his neck.

Luke turned to see where the arrow came from. A noble looking man with yellow hair was firing arrow after arrow. Each struck a Valmese man or woman in the neck.

"Retreat, you damn fools!" shouted Luke anyway. "Force your way through them! Make for Fort Obsepio! We'll live to fight another day!"

**『』**

Farina drew her arm back, and then flung the javelin with all her might.

The Wyvern Rider who charged her collided with it, the force of the strike nearly throwing him off the flying lizard.

"Lalum, what's it look like back there?" Farina asked, too preoccupied with aiming another javelin.

"They're mostly dead and retreating," the orange haired woman said. "We've lost two full Wings though, from my estimates."

"Damn," swore Farina.

"Should we still assist the ground troops?" Lalum asked.

"I'm getting paid for it, so we better do so," Farina grumbled. She held her lance aloft and turned her Pegasus to look at her remaining forces while shouting, "Wings, with me. Dive!"

The flapping of wings resounded through the air as four hundred Pegasus Knights flew down from the clouds towards the Ruins of Animas.

**『』**

Marisa and her four swordsmen accompanied her onto the Dueling Level as Farina led her Pegasus Knights. The fleeing Valmese below began to feel the pain of even more Pegasus Knights hailing down onto them.

"Strange," Marisa commented, sounding annoyed.

"Ma'am?"

"Valm had five thousand soldiers down there. Five hundred will probably escape," she estimated. "But where are the other ten thousand soldiers Valm supposedly has? Why are they not assisting with the battle?"

"Maybe they realized they were doomed?" suggested one of the soldiers.

"Doubtful," Marisa replied. "General Linus doesn't give up like that."

But then why would he? Would a man as stubborn as him allow five thousand of his soldiers to get destroyed?

Unless…he wasn't in command anymore.

"Fuck!" exclaimed Marisa angrily, a scowl seizing control over her face.

"Ma'am…?" the soldiers looked at each other.

"Valmese reinforcements are already here," Marisa explained. "They want to lure us into a false sense of victory and then out number us in our wake of victory. General Linus doesn't have command over his army anymore. I was not expecting this…"

The pink haired General turned towards her fellow Ylisseans. "One of you go back to Fort Obice and warn Master Canas of everything I told you. Another needs to warn General Briggid. And a third needs to go find General Hugh and do the same. Move!"

Three of them saluted and bolted off the way they came from. The last soldier looked at the Mantled General, waiting for orders.

"Soldier, what's your name?"

"Ike," he replied though his voice was muffled beneath the helm he wore.

"Ike, you're with me," she said. "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two from what you see in this battle."

"Battle, General?" Ike asked.

"Linus may not be in command, be he  _will_ meet me in battle here. I'm sure of it," Marisa said angrily.

Ike accepted her statement and the two moved across the plateau. It was not long before they saw a tall man with his arms folded with twenty soldiers behind him near the edge.

General Linus.

Marisa drew her sword and advanced into speaking distance of her enemy.

"I had begun to wonder whether you'd show up," Linus called out to her as she approached.

"We can't all be perfect," Marisa replied as she stopped twenty feet from Linus. "I see you brought some friends."

"Call them your warm up," Linus grinned. "I want to see if you're the Switcher I remember."

Marisa spun her sword in her hand, "I am your superior in every way, even today. You might be a Powerarm, but a Switcher beats a Powerarm any day."

"Maybe," Linus shrugged. "But we'll see, eh?"

On cue, his soldiers stepped out in front of him and encircled her. Ike began to take a stand beside her, but the Mantled General stopped him.

"You'd get in the way," she told him. "Just watch, maybe you'll get a story to tell the others over drinks tonight."

Ike nodded reluctantly and backed out of the circle. Surprisingly, the Valmese soldiers let him pass unhindered.

Marisa bent her knees and held her sword at a low angle. Taking a deep breath, she waited.

Wind blew through her hair, and neither side moved while the waited for the other to act.

Just as it seemed to get unbearable, Marisa leapt. Her flamberge struck the nearest Valmese man through the gap in his helm. The pink haired woman could feel the familiar crunch as her blade pierced skull.

Nineteen.

Out of reflex, the other Valmese warriors backed off, bringing their guards up. A new fear blossomed in their eyes, making them wary of her. The bravest of the soldiers ran at her, swinging his greatsword at her with all his might.

Marisa didn't even try to dodge. She merely smirked, and used her Mantle.

The greatsword fell onto a person, it just wasn't Marisa. A Valmese man found himself cleaved in half while Marisa killed two more on the other side of the circle.

Sixteen.

It had been a long time since she'd used her Mantle. Marisa lived for the surprise she'd always see on her opponents' faces. One moment she'd be there, and then she'd Switch with someone else.

"Look before you swing," one of the men loudly advised.

"Well, don't you catch on quick," commented Marisa. She Switched places again, appearing between two more people. She executed two quick strikes—and two Valmese men.

Fourteen.

At that moment, the soldiers decided it would be best to rush her at once. Overwhelm her so Switching wouldn't be possible.

Mistake.

It would have worked against anyone else. And only because Marisa was so experienced that it didn't work. She changed places with the soldiers so deftly she never seemed to stay in one place longer than a second.

Five.

Most had died from Marisa's blade. But a couple had died from their own comrades.

"Right now, you have the option to run," Marisa said in her low voice. "I advise you to do so."

Four of them immediately ran for it. One of them stayed behind bravely. Marisa almost rolled her eyes as the woman charged her, swinging the sword with textbook ease.

The Mantled General jumped off the edge of the plateau.

In midair, she turned to face the soldier. The woman stared at her in surprise. Marisa smirked, and Switched with her.

Her feet touched ground as she heard the screaming woman fall to her death off the side.

"You certainly haven't changed," Linus said.

"Who's that cowering behind you?" Marisa asked, not caring for Linus' pleasantries.

"This? This is Sir Orson. Perhaps you recognize him," smirked Linus. He was bragging.

Where had she heard the name Orson before…?

"You!" growled Marisa.

Orson said nothing. Linus only laughed, "He hasn't been very talkative lately. I figured you had something to do with it."

"I will cut him to pieces," Marisa nearly roared. "Traitors do not deserve life."

"Then you'll have to get through me," Linus declared. He drew his giant claymore. The sword was big enough that it would take two people at least to lift it.

Linus' Mantle was a Powerarm. It was simple and dangerous: he had the power of several men.

Marisa grit her teeth as she watched Linus swing the sword around like it was nothing. With a blade of that size, her slim flamberge couldn't take more than one hit, maybe two before snapping.

But she knew how to fight Linus. She'd done it thousands of times with Lloyd. The only problem was that he knew how to fight her.

"Hyah!" shouted Linus as he swung his sword at a deadly arc while Marisa appeared to not be paying attention. Of course, the pink haired woman dodged out of the way.

Where she stood moments ago, Linus' sword crashed into the earth. It left a small crater.

"You've improved," Marisa commented.

"My brother Lloyd was just like you, fast as hell. I had to make every hit count," Linus said.

Linus stabbed his sword at Marisa. The woman swung her flamberge up and hit the flat of Linus' blade, pushing it out of the way.

Using her momentum, Marisa spun and swung her sword. She wasn't able to anticipate just how fast Linus could move his sword, he blocked her attack. Snarling, Marisa jumped back.

"What, not going to switch places with me like you did with that last soldier?" Linus raised an eyebrow.

"Even a bastard like you doesn't deserve a pitiful death like that," Marisa said. "Orson, however, might warrant it."

"Ha!" laughed Linus. Marisa took advantage of the situation and Switched with Linus.

"But that doesn't mean I'm above just swapping in battle," Marisa smirked.

"Then show me your worst," Linus taunted. Marisa obliged, leaping at him with a flurry of strikes. Linus blocked them all with the flat of his blade. It had been made for specifically that reason.

Marisa Switched with Linus again, now back to her original side. When she Switched, nothing changed about the stance or physique of the other person. They appeared as they had been, just in another place.

It could still be unnerving to those who were expecting it.

Marisa began a rapid place changing duel with Linus. Every single move they'd be in opposite positions. Marisa was used to it, and Linus was not.

It was almost completely unfair, and Marisa knocked Linus to the ground.

"You've…gotten much better," Liuns panted, laying on the ground with a sword at his neck.

"I trained for occasions like this. I've got one of the strongest Mantles known. A Powerarm like you doesn't measure up," Marisa said.

"Behind you, ma'am!" shouted Ike.

"Just because it's strong, doesn't make you strong," a new voice said. Marisa felt steel touching her neck.

The Mantled General pivoted on her feet, looking at the newcomer. "Shit," said Marisa. "Lady Lucia of the Four Cornerstones."

Lucia wore an Arulian longcoat similar to Marisa's. Except the woman in white's longcoat was sleeveless. To compensate, she wore fingerless gloves that extended up to just below her shoulders. Her short light blue hair barely touched the outwardly turned collar of her longcoat. Just below her slim waist a thick green belt looped around her, supplying the method to sheath her sword. Unlike most longcoats, Lucia's was strapped together by both a strap at her waist and a strap that was over her breasts. To match the white theme of her outfit, Lucia had white boot-stockings that went all the way up to her thighs. And finally, around her neck was a gold necklace with a ruby indicating her wealth as a Valmese commander.

"Indeed," Lucia nodded. "And to note, a strong weapon makes no difference in the hands of someone who can't use it."

"Cocky Vanisher," Marisa muttered.

"A Vanisher beats a Switcher. And if you think that's false, then you can try and prove me wrong right now," Lady Lucia said.

It was easy to see she couldn't win. A Powerarm, a Vanisher and Orson? With only Ike with her, she was as good as dead.

"We'll have to schedule a date sometime," Marisa smirked. Before Lucia could react, Marisa Switched with her. From a position closer to Ike, the Mantled General jumped onto him. With the speed of many years' experience, she took her Warp Powder and vanished with Ike.

"She's quicker than I expected," Lucia commented, sheathing her sword.

"Thanks for the help," Linus said, as he rested the gigantic blade on his shoulder. "But I thought the plan was to have you and the other three wait behind for the surprise attack next time?"

"It's a good thing I decided to come check on you," Lucia said. "She was kicking your ass."

Linus growled. Lucia chuckled, "Lighten up. With the reinforcements, we outnumber them. You'll get your fair share of fighting."

"I better," Linus said darkly.


	7. Pawns In Position

**Chapter 7**  
**Pawns In Position**

**『』**

"You're positive the enemy reinforcements arrived?" Canas asked.

The battle had ended only a few hours ago. Marisa had finally finished her rounds of determining just how many soldiers had died and the status of the army's equipment. Canas had immediately asked to see her in the Generals' quarters.

"I saw one of the Cornerstones with my own eyes," Marisa said, a tired tone in her voice. "Lady Lucia was there to kill me. Being the damn Vanisher she is, she probably arrived before any of the other reinforcements did."

"What do you mean by that? Are you saying they're not all here yet?" Canas asked, adjusting his monocle.

"If all four of the Cornerstones had been here, we would have seen them fight us," Marisa said. "They would have had the advantage. And crushed us."

"So only Lady Lucia was there?"

"Perhaps, or maybe one of the other three were there as well," Marisa said. "Either way, they meant this to be a hollow victory. Now they have a force of between thirty thousand and forty thousand."

"That is something we can work around," Canas said lightly. "The Ruins of Animas are not known for their maneuverability. A large number cannot be used effectively. However, they will outlast us if we keep fighting as we have been."

"More so since they have Orson with them," Marisa growled.

"Excuse me?" Canas asked, perking up.

"Orson, the previous Ylissean General? They have him, and it seems like he betrayed us," Marisa said.

"…Why? Did he say why?" Canas asked quizzically.

"No. He was silent," Marisa responded. "Can you think of a reason why he would?"

"No, not at all," Canas said, blown away. "He was a good man. I have no idea what would have made him turn. This is the hour for bad news, it seems."

"I'll kill him myself," Marisa growled. "Traitorous bastards do not need to live."

"I'll discuss this with Hugh. He knew him best," Canas said, heading off Marisa's anger. "Right now, we've got to think of some strategies to mount against Valm until we can launch a full attack."

"Such as?"

"Raid Captains," Canas said. "We assemble several parties that serve only to destroy as much as they can. Whether it's patrols or siege weapons."

"Got any people in mind to lead them?" asked Marisa.

"Two. You'll find them in the Mess Hall," Canas said.

"What do they look like?"

"You'll know them when you see them."

**『』**

"What's your name, kid?" General Linus asked the green haired man.

"Luke, sir," the soldier responded.

The two of them gazed out over their wall that stood stalwart in front of Fort Obsepio. Remains of their attack force still trailed in hours after the battle concluded.

"Luke, I understand you did a damn good job getting what was left of our force off the battlefield," Linus said, turning towards the younger man.

"I did my best, General. I should have acted sooner, but my superior refused to retreat," Luke explained.

"So you stood firm with the attack anyway. I admire that," Linus said, grinning. "Stubborn commanders are just what Valm needs. We have plenty of smart ones, we just need cutthroat leaders that will press on without fleeing."

"Sir?" Luke said, not following where Linus was going.

"I'm making you a Captain. I don't know how much power I have since the Cornerstones are here, but I'll ensure you a command," Linus said, turning back toward the battlefield.

"I am honored, General," Luke fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"Stand," Linus ordered. "You are now my direct subordinate. When I call for you, you jump and run to my side, understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good, now accompany me. It's time to see just how this army is going to be run," Linus said.

**『』**

Marisa opened the simple door that led into the Mess Hall. It was crowded with soldiers who were drinking in victory. Laughter sang, voices cried out and general cheer smothered the air.

The Mantled General hated it.

Lloyd had always told her that she knew only two types of emotions, negative and cold. Marisa disagreed, arguing that she would smirk on occasion. The Lord General had only shaken his head and said, "You smirk when you're either overconfident or condescending. That doesn't make it happy."

Marisa had only shrugged. Emotions were for complicated, and the Mantled General didn't need them to run an army.

Two men on stools sat on an elevated platform at the back of the hall. One had some sort of string instrument and the other was singing loudly.

_"Now on that flea, there was a rash!_   
_A rare rash, a rattlin' rash!_   
_A rash on the flea,_   
_A flea in the feather,_   
_A feather on the bird,_   
_A bird on the egg,_   
_An egg in the nest,_   
_A nest in the twig,_   
_A twig on the branch,_   
_A branch on the limb,_   
_A limb on the tree,_   
_A tree in a hole,_   
_A hole in a bog down in the valley-o!"_

_"Oh, row, the rattlin' bog!_   
_A bog down in the valley-o!_   
_Oh, row, the rattlin' bog,_   
_A bog down in the valley-o!"_

The soldiers cheered as the two men at the front finished the song. Clapping resounded throughout the room.

Marisa watched in silence as the soldiers continued on with their celebrations. The pink haired woman merely stood on her side of the room without saying anything.

It didn't take long for the soldiers to realize that the highest military authority in Ylisse stood in their midst. Once a few noticed and became quiet, it turned into a race to not be the last one talking.

"You two," Marisa called out, pointing at the two men who had been singing. "I want a word with the both of you."

The two tall men looked at each other. Quicker than Marisa expected, they walked right up to her. Satisfied, the pink haired woman led the two of them out of the Mess Hall.

"Are we in some kind of trouble?" asked the one with the bandana asked.

"Names," Marisa commanded.

"Dart," said the one with the bandana. Dart certainly didn't look like he belonged at a battlefield. He was a natural purebred pirate. With a bandana and blue striped shirt, Dart looked ready to captain a ship instead of fight a war. A leather belt was strapped across his chest, holding a money bag at the end. Around his waist were three belts, all holding up an axe on Dart's lower back. Three were required since Dart's axe was so huge. Dart's beige pants were ripped in several places, and several makeshift repairs using stray strips of cloth had been made, probably by Dart himself.

"And you?" Marisa asked, turning to the purple haired man.

"I'm called Geese," said the other pirate-like man. The tall purple haired man's blue longcoat waved in the wind, as did his long hair. Said longcoat was not Arulian like Marisa's was. On the man's belt were two Hand Axes, optimized for throwing purposes. On both hands were gauntlets that looked to be quite sturdy, seemingly substituting as shield replacements. Geese wore a blue shirt and brown pants, along with a belt that had a blue cloth tied to it. Strapped around his leg were a pair of knives.

"Where are you two from?" the Mantled General continued to ask.

"I used to be the cap'n of a ship," Dart began. "Geese was my first mate. We eventually ended up here."

"Do you hold any allegiance to Ylisse?"

"No," Geese said. "But we hate Valm and their piracy policies. So we're fighting with you against them. Simple as that."

"Fighting experience?"

"Geese here was leader of my Suicide Squad," Dart said proudly. "And I was the cap'n. You don't become cap'n unless you're powerful."

"Fair enough," Marisa accepted. "I'm promoting you both to Raid Captain. See General Briggid for your assignments."

"Er, ma'am? What do Raid Captains do?" Geese asked.

"I suspect it'll be akin to what you did with your Suicide Squad," Marisa said.

**『』**

"What I don't understand," Linus began, "is why we didn't assist our soldiers with the reinforcements."

"Tactics, Linus," Lady Lucia said. They stood out at the back of Fort Obsepio, waiting for the next group of reinforcements to show up. "We lured them into a false sense of victory. And our forces arrived too late in the battle to get ready in time."

"General Marisa saw you when you came to assist me," Linus said. "Any surprise we had is long gone."

"Ergo, the plan  _would_ have worked if you had not blundered," Lucia said. "Had I not had to save you, everything would be going perfectly."

Linus' face turned red from anger. Lady Lucia merely shook her head and said, "Don't bother. You've done a fine job with this army. I can forgive your mistake."

"You're…most kind, milady," Linus said, anger lacing his tone lightly.

Lucia was cut off from what she was about to say by a messenger's arrival. He knelt down on one knee before the Lady, "A message for m'lady." The young man outstretched a piece of paper.

Lucia took it and read it quickly. She thanked the messenger, and then beckoned towards Linus. "Come," she spoke. "Lady Brenya has arrived. Let us meet her."

**『』**

"Inspection!" barked a Valmese soldier.

Emmeryn jumped up from her sitting position and stood at attention. Maris did the same, and then got Gonzales on his feet as well.

The fair haired woman had learned firsthand what happened when orders were not obeyed. Those whip scars had barely scabbed over.

Maris made eye contact. Emmeryn could see her expression, and she looked nervous. Emmeryn couldn't figure out why for half a moment, and then it hit her.

The sword.

Maris had managed to get a sword off one of the guards. How she did it, Emmeryn had no idea. But it was strapped under the purple haired woman's bad.

"Make way for the Warden!" shouted the Valmese man again.

Things just got worse.

Jerme strolled in looking the same as the day she had first seen him. Memories flooded her mind and the once noble woman let out an audible gasp.

Maris gave her a look and Gonzales grinned simply. Luckily, Jerme didn't hear it.

Guards began to sweep through the rows of beds. Some took their time and checked under beds carefully while others only gave glancing looks. Emmeryn prayed to Naga that one of the lax men would search Maris' bed.

Naga was not with Emmeryn, as it seemed.

Jerme himself walked towards the section Emmeryn stood in. He grinned maniacally as he looked at Emmeryn. "I remember you," he said. "You were a fun one with all those screams."

Emmeryn refused to make eye contact with him.

"Look at me," Jerme said, some of the insanity leaving his voice.

As Emmeryn began to turn her head, the back of Jerme's hand hit her face with a force so hard that it threw her back onto her bed.

"When I address you, I expect eye contact, understood?" Jerme said as he glared at her.

"Understood," Emmeryn whispered.

"I can't hear you," he said in a cold whisper.

"Understood!" shouted Emmeryn, full of fear. A mantra of prayers filled her mind in a vain effort to calm herself.

"Heh," chuckled Jerme. "You're afraid. Justly so, because next time my heart might not see it to be so forgiving."

The brown haired Warden turned away from her and Emmeryn let out a quiet breath of air. She was alive.

For now. There was still the sword.

Maris and Gonzales had moved away from the beds along with a few of the other prisoners. Jerme bent over, ignoring them, and searched under Maris' bed.

Emmeryn held her breath.

And Jerme produced a slim Valmese sword.

His voice took on the aura of deathly calm that Emmeryn feared. "Whose is this?" he said, every other voice turning silent in the room.

No one replied.

"I swear to Naga, if no one confesses, I will kill every single person in this room myself," Jerme said, his voice echoing throughout the room.

Then someone raised a hand.

And giggled.

Gonzales waved his hand and said, "Pointy sword!"

Jerme's eyes turned dark for a moment and Emmeryn desperately wanted to put Gonzales' hand down herself. But she wasn't brave enough.

_Naga, forgive me._

The Warden walked forward and grabbed Gonzales' arm and yanked him down to the ground. The giant man hit the ground and cried, "Ow!"

As Gonzales began to get back up, Jerme took the sword he still had in his hand and decapitated the man.

Emmeryn flinched back, not having the chance to look away. One moment Gonzales' smiling face was on his shoulders, the next it rolled on the ground towards Emmeryn.

"I will tolerate no disobedience in this camp," Jerme said quietly for all to hear. "Remember that if you don't want to turn out like this simpleton."

The Warden handed the sword off to a guard and left the building. His guards quickly followed.

The rest of the prisoners went back to their respective bunks and left Emmeryn and Maris to bury their friend.

As her hand touched Gonzales' still warm body, thoughts filled Emmeryn's head.  _Why did this man have to die? Why did he have to die because of me and Maris?_

_Do you want this to happen, Naga? Do you want me to suffer?_

_If so, why?_

**『』**

"Show me what you've learned," Navarre said. The sun shone brightly in the sky, decorating the red roofs of the Valmese capital with light.

"As you wish," Cath said flatly. She turned the coin in her hand carefully as she looked at the several hundred foot gap between her and the next building.

The orange haired woman took two steps back and began to run to the edge of the building. Once her foot was not even an inch from the end of the roof, she jumped.

Cath dropped the coin. It was taken by gravity and pulled towards the ground. The Morph reached down her hand pushed against it.

The small gold coin smash against the ground. But now that it was next to an immovable object, Cath shot upwards. Angling her hand in different directions, she flew across the gap and onto the building across from her.

As her feet hit the ground, Cath searched for any fear still left in her. She found none, as if she couldn't even be afraid.

Was it connected with her inability to feel? It must have been.

"Sloppy," Navarre said as he landed gracefully next to her. "But not bad for a beginner."

"Thanks," Cath replied, feeling no pleasure from the compliment.

"You really can't feel emotions, can you?" Navarre asked.

"It seems not," Cath said.

"You and Ephidel will get along just fine," Navarre said. "He can't feel emotions either, since he's a Morph too."

"What are his Mantles?"

"Mantle singular. Ephidel tested the process on himself when it was first devised. It was performed incorrectly, and he got everything except the additional Mantle. Though since he's a Summoner, that doesn't really matter," Navarre said.

"Understood," Cath said simply.

"Come on," Navarre beckoned. "Before I take you to Ursula, I want you to meet my brother, Karel."

**『』**

"Seems like maybe we signed up for the wrong side," Lalum said.

"Perhaps, but they've paid us," Farina said. The two of them were scouting the Ylissean countryside as their contractor had commanded. Both were on Farina's Pegasus drifting through the air as Lalum analyzed what they saw.

"But our side is suddenly outnumbered three to one, maybe four to one," Lalum said.

"You know, you used to be cheerful," Farina remarked.

"Then I became a mercenary," Lalum shrugged. "Cheerful doesn't pay the bills."

"True," Farina admitted. "But you could be more positive."

"I'm an orphan from the streets of Ylisstol," Lalum rolled her eyes. "Thanks to you, I'm not in that position anymore. But I'm hardly an innocent person. It's hard to stay positive when you've seen the things we've seen."

"It just takes practice," Farina shrugged. "I can do it."

"Because you think about gold constantly," Lalum grumbled.

The blue haired Pegasus Knight laughed and sent her magnificent white beast into a dive. The wind tore into her face like a knife, and she loved it.

"Warn me next time you do that," Lalum yelled over the wind's scream.

"Do you see that?" Farina shouted in reply, pointing at a lone figure walking towards Fort Obice.

"Shall we greet him?" Lalum asked as Farina pulled out of her dive.

"Sure," Farina smirked. She spurred her Pegasus into another dive, laughing at Lalum's cursing behind her.

Within seconds, they landed in front of the man in a black longcoat. He drew his sword as soon as they touched down.

"Declare yourselves," he commanded.

"Mercenary Commander Farina of Ylisse' Pegasus Wings," she responded.

"Mercenary Mage Lalum in service to Ylisse," Lalum said in turn.

"Seems like we're on the same side," said the man, sheathing his sword. "Lord General Lloyd of Ylisse."

Farina and Lalum bowed their heads from atop their mount. "The Mantled General has been expecting you," Farina said. "She'll be glad to see your return."

"I hope the battles have gone well?" Lloyd said, approaching them.

"The first has," Lalum said. "But Valmese reinforcements have arrived, and we'll be hard pressed to survive."

"Then we must make haste," Lloyd said grimly.

**『』**

Karel rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, suppressing the tremor of excitement running through his fingers.

He always got excited when hunting.

His prey was one of the Anna sisters. Damn redheads were all identical, and therefore made his search even harder to find the ones he was looking for.

The Ure's wasteland appearance made picking out his target easier than usual. With Mount Prism looming over the landscape, the sun was blocked from obstructing Karel's vision.

_Anna emerged from behind on of the jagged rock formations that protruded from the ground in the wasteland._

Karel began to move in on his target with silent, deadly ease.

Timeseers were often considered one of the most powerful Mantles. Karel would agree, except he had to live with it. He described it as having two pairs of eyes seeing different things at the same time.

It had taken Karel years to perfect living an ordinary life with his vision. And fighting took even longer.

The swordsman's hand drifted across his blue Arulian longcoat. He'd won it the Arulian way, just like every other person who wore an Arulian longcoat. But with his Mantle, he'd had a difficult time learning how to fight with it.

Now he was one of the most dangerous soldiers in Mira.

Karel stalked the Anna as she began to move through the narrow passageways between the jutting rocks.

_Anna turned a corner directly in front of him and vanished out of sight._

Karel quickened his pace so as not to lose her. As she turned the corner, Karel was only a couple seconds behind her.

_Anna turned abruptly and swung her sword at Karel._

The man in blue drew his red blade and held it up to block Anna's strike as he turned the corner. The redhead's sword collided with the red steel of Karel's blade.

" _Damn, you really are a Timeseer, aren't you?" Anna said with a groan._

"Damn, you really are a Timeseer, aren't you?" Anna said with a groan. She jumped backwards and held her sword up in a ready position.

"Will you come quietly?" Karel asked.

"No," Anna defiantly said.

_The woman clad in red wasted no time. She jumped forward, swinging her blade in a complex array of strikes._

Karel shifted his foot back as Anna approached. Knowing the placement of each strike, Karel blocked them flawlessly.

"Useless," he taunted.

_Anna jerked her foot out and smashed Karel in the leg._

As Anna tried to kick Karel, the swordsman swung his sword down and landed a thin cut on her leg.

_Anna cried out in pain as she stumbled backward off guard._

Karel leapt at his opponent, angling his sword down at a deadly arc.

_The redheaded woman rolled to the side, out of danger._

Karel's blade touched the stone ground without as much force as it would have had he not been warned. Anna got to her feet, favoring her uninjured leg. Karel flipped his blade in his hand and took an aggressive stance.

_Anna stood still, unmoving as she studied Karel's person._

The black haired man narrowed his eyes and advanced on her, slowly.

" _I heard you caught up with my sister a few weeks ago," Anna said._

"I heard—"

"I killed her. And I was hoping you'd prove to be more of a challenge," Karel snarled. Interrupting questions always threw off his opponents.

Anna blinked in surprise. And that was when Karel struck.

_Anna raised her blade horizontally to block what she expected to be a vertical slice._

Karel swung his blade horizontally to counter what he'd seen.

Clang!

The man in blue blinked, his sword having met Anna's. He'd acted too soon, and Anna had been able to change what she was doing. Karel shouldn't have stopped paying attention to his future sight.

_Anna tried to kick with her foot again in hopes to distract Karel._

As the redhead began to move her leg forward, Karel swung his sword so fast it almost sliced cleanly through Anna's leg.

The redheaded woman fell to the ground with a scream. Karel kicked her sword away, rendering the woman useless.

"This is it, I guess," Anna said.

"Answer this, who do you serve?" Karel asked, touching his blade to her throat.

"I serve only gold," Anna smirked.

Karel growled, "Your sister didn't have time to be questioned, unfortunately. I want to know why on the day that Valm attacks Ylisstol, that the Avvenire is released. Your sister was holding it as we fought."

"Doesn't surprise me," she shrugged weakly. Karel put a foot on her leg wound and pressed his weight down.

"Who. Do. You. Serve?"

"Naga," Anna said, whimpering in pain.

"Gods do not exist," snarled Karel.

"Be careful what you say, you might just be wrong," Anna said with a mocking grin.

"Shut up!" shouted Karel.

"Events are already in motion," Anna said. "Naga herself has decided it is time. Don't bother trying to stop them."

"I will kill the man who has the Avvenire. Then I'll throw it in the bottom of the sea," Karel swore.

"You know that won't work," Anna smirked triumphantly.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to pay a visit to the Chasm," it was Karel's turn to grin.

"You wouldn't dare," Anna whispered.

"I can, and I will if I have to," Karel said. "I am master of my own destiny, and no god can change that."

_Anna tried to roll over towards her sword._

Karel shoved his blade straight through her neck.

**『』**

"I'm surprised there's this much vegetation compared to the mountain's base," Leila said, referring to the desolate wasteland they'd crossed a day before.

"Further up the slope it gets less and less so," Heather explained. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

The four companions walked up the slope of the mountain with Heather at the lead. The blond haired Baroness had told them that their destination was only a short walk up Mount Prism.

"There is a door that will be coming up soon," Heather announced. "Matthew, we will need your sword to open it."

"That's…oddly convenient," Matthew said, growing suspicious.

"The Seer from the village told me," Heather dismissed. Matthew nodded, though he felt that her response hid something still.

"Does anyone else hear that sound?" Sain asked just as Leila was about to speak.

The four of them stopped and listened intently. Birds chirped as the morning air lightly brushed through the trees' leaves.

_Grrrrrrrr!_

"Now I hear it," grumbled Leila, drawing her rapier.

"Sounds like a Mauthedog," Heather said.

"Can anyone tell where it's coming from?" Matthew asked, holding his sword in front of him while twisting his head every which way.

_Matthew saw himself facing down towards the way he came from. A loud growl echoed through the forested area and a massive beast jumped from the trees at him._

Matthew spun around and looked down the pathway they'd came from. He'd learned to trust these visions. They'd saved his life and his friends, after all.

A growl resounded throughout the area, just as had happened in his vision. The brown haired man tensed, waiting for the inevitable.

"It'll come from this direction," Matthew said with certainty.

"How can you be sure?" Sain asked. "It sounds like it is coming from all around us."

"This sword sees the future," Matthew said with conviction. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's how I saved you and Leila from the dragon all those days ago."

"That would make sense, you reacted incredibly fast. Too fast for your level of skill," Leila said. "I trust you. So it'll come from down there?"

"Indeed," Matthew said, and he raised his blade in preparation.

Only, the beast didn't strike from where they'd come from.

It attacked from where they were headed.

It was a Gwyllgi, a higher form of a Mauthedog. The two beast shared a similar body structure, except the Gwyllgi had three heads, each roaring and frothing at the mouth.

"Impossible!" Matthew exclaimed as the beast leapt on Sain's back.

Sain screamed as the Gwyllgi began to rip at Sain's back, the section that wasn't covered by his green armor.

Heather's short sword struck the wolf-like creature on the back. It growled and released its hold on Sain. The blue colored beast jumped back and took an aggressive stance.

"I thought you said that sword could show you the future!" Leila snarled, jabbing her rapier forward. The Gwyllgi took a small leap backwards out of the way.

"It has!" Matthew insisted. "This was the first time I didn't see what was going to happen."

"Let's sort this out after we kill this Fiend," Heather said, standing in front of Sain who struggled to rise.

"Good idea," Leila said. "Matthew, get behind it!"

"Understood!" he shouted and Vanished. The brown haired man reappeared behind the Gwyllgi and swung his sword at its exposed back.

For all the beast's senses and speed, it could not dodge a Vanisher. Matthew scored a large cut on its back.

Heather moved in. Matthew saw the Gwyllgi's shadow rise from the ground and grab its feet. Unable to move, the three heads howled in fury as Heather chopped them off in rapid succession.

"They're easy to take down if you can stop them in their tracks," Heather commented.

Meanwhile, Leila dealt with Sain.

"Leila! You are like an angel sent from Naga!" Sain exclaimed despite the pain.

"Sain, if you have the energy to flirt, why am I wasting a vulnerary on you?" Leila retorted.

"Ack!" Sain bit back his next flirtatious comment. "I…concede to your wisdom."

"Good," chuckled the red haired woman. "Now Matthew, what is this about your sword?"

Matthew and Heather walked over to their two companions. "I saw the future on two occasions, one with the dragon, and the other back when Ylisse was invaded."

"And what makes you think they weren't hallucinations of some sort?" Leila asked skeptically.

Matthew shook his head, "They came true. Every detail until I stepped in."

"Until you stepped in?"

"You would have died if I didn't do anything with the dragon," Matthew responded.

"May I interrupt?" Heather asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "I once read a book that said Naga has dominion over the future. Perhaps your sword really is similar to the one that Naga wielded in battle?"

"What sword did Naga use in battle?" Sain asked curiously. The cuts on his back already began to heal with the vulnerary's help.

"Have you not heard the stories?" Heather asked in disbelief. "The ones where King Marth and Naga fought side by side?"

"I think I can speak for most commoners," Leila said. "We only ever hear that a great battle took place ages ago between Naga and some other powerful entity."

"Strange," Heather muttered. "Anyway, the specifics aren't important. Naga had a sword called the Avvenire that she fought with. With it she could influence the future."

"Shit, Anna called this the Avvenire," Matthew said. "What  _is_ this thing?"

"No idea," Heather replied uselessly.

"The big question is, can we trust what you see?" Leila asked.

"I'm…not sure," Matthew said.

Sain of all people had a solution, "Why don't you tell us whatever you see, and we'll agree on an outcome? At least, if it isn't in the heat of battle."

"Sounds fair," Leila nodded in agreement.

"Good," Heather said. "Let's get moving, I want to enter the mountain before long."

**『』**

"Lady Brenya," Lucia acknowledged.

Lady Brenya was tall for a mage. She wore a deep purple outfit that was as wealthy as it was revealing. The high collar of the vest met her shoulder where not only shoulder armor graced the woman's shoulders, but where a long magenta cape hung. Two long pieces of cloth hung from Brenya's waist, serving more for fashion than for battle. Each length of cloth served to cover her legs, front and back. Long locks of magenta hair, matching the cape, descended down her back. A circlet around her forehead served to keep her hair out of her eyes.

"I see you beat me here," Brenya commented lightly. As she walked into the encampment, a force of five thousand accompanied her. Said soldiers began to disperse without command, going to find their superiors and barracks. "Has Sir Camus arrived yet?"

"No, he has not. Camus and Sirius are only a day or two behind though," Linus jumped in. "They bring with them twenty thousand soldiers."

Brenya's eyes widened, "Twenty thousand? That must put our numbers near forty thousand!"

"Forty-five, milady," corrected Linus.

"You've done well, General," Brenya smiled. "Hopefully this front will not occupy us for too long. General Steelwind told me himself that he'll need all the help he can get assaulting the Longfort."

"We'll strike once Sirs Camus and Sirius arrive," Lucia said. "The Ylisseans will not stand a chance."

"Then it is best that we go prepare," Brenya said. "General, give me a tour of this place. I want to know the fort I shall be defending."

"As you wish, milady," Linus bowed and led the magenta haired woman away.

"Um…" Luke said nervously, not sure whether to follow or not.

"Stay back, boy," Lucia said with a chuckle. "Linus will have work for you later. I'll tell him you're in the barracks."

"As you say, milady," Luke bowed and left.

**『』**

The door was rather underwhelming. It looked like a common wooden door, only made of stone. Probably due to the fact that it was part of the side of the mountain. Though not a shred of plant life touched it.

"This is it?" Sain asked, rather surprised. "For all this buildup, I expected some sort of towering monstrosity engrained with jewels and whatnot."

"You think jewels would still be here after however long this thing has been around?" Heather asked.

"Ah," Sain nodded. "Fair point."

"So you said you needed my sword for this door…" Matthew prompted.

"Right," Heather said. "Just…try holding it up to the door?"

"You don't even know how to open it?" Matthew gave Heather a look of astonishment.

"Shut it," Heather rolled her eyes. "I know the sword is the key, I just don't know how."

Matthew shrugged and drew the Avvenire. In the past hour of walking up the mountain, the Vanisher had begun to dislike the sword. The damn thing hadn't shown him the future when he'd been counting on it.

Was there a reason? Had he done something different?

Anticlimactically, the door simply clicked. No flash of light, no magical noise, just a click.

"Is it…open?" Leila asked hesitantly.

"I think so," Matthew responded, sheathing the Avvenire. He walked towards the door and gave it a push.

It didn't move.

"Let me give it a try," Sain suggested. "Sometimes you need to have a bit of muscle to open old doors!"

"Are you calling me weak?"

"Matthew, be quiet," Leila commanded, unable to stop a slight grin from appearing.

Sain favored his right shoulder when pushing, so as to avoid his healing injury. He pressed all his weight against the door and pushed.

It fell over. With Sain in tow.

"Ha!" Sain exclaimed from on top of the door that was now inside the mountain. "Told you I could get it."

"I'll lead," Leila declared. She helped Sain to his feet with an extended hand.

"Would it not be better if I lead?" Heather cut in.

"You're not a Nightwatch," Leila said. "I'm ideal for leading through a cave."

"Oh, right," Heather said, embarrassed that she forgot. "Lead on."

"Do you have a torch?" Leila asked. Heather passed her an ether torch. " _Ardeo,"_ Leila softly murmured. The red stone at the top flickered to life, shedding a small amount of light on the area.

The other three followed the red headed woman into the narrow tunnel that led into the mountain. Matthew, Sain and Heather walked slowly and cautiously behind their confident leader. Times like these were when Matthew was jealous of Leila's Mantle.

Though he could disappear at reappear at will. Who was he to complain?

After five long minutes of walking through the eerily silent mountain, they came upon what seemed to be a large room.

"Holy shit," Leila breathed softly.

"What?" Sain asked before bumping into Matthew.

"This place is a banquet hall," Leila said in amazement. "Something used to live in this mountain. Probably an entire civilization."

"Really?" Heather said, surprised. "I've never heard anything like that."

_Wum._

"Did you guys hear that?" Matthew asked, a puzzled expression overtaking his face.

Just as Leila was going to answer, she happened to take a glance upwards. Matthew watched through the dim torchlight as her expression turned from amazed to frightened.

Leila never looked frightened.

"Leila…?" Matthew trailed off.

"Nobody move," Leila said, her voice cracking.

"What do you see?" whispered Heather.

"Mogalls," hissed Leila.

_Wum._

"What was that?" Sain said, beginning to get scared.

"They're moving, keep it down!" Leila whisper-shouted at the green knight.

_Wum wum._

"Follow me,  _very_ slowly," Leila commanded. She began to edge slowly further into to the cave.

"Why are we going this way!?" Sain whispered.

"We haven't gotten what we came for," Heather murmured, shutting Sain up.

_Wum._

Matthew gazed up at the ceiling as they slowly moved. A huge, single eye opened. It glowed a faint purple as it watched their torchlight.

"Shit," Matthew said. The other three looked up and muttered similar curses. They stopped moving.

And the Mogalls began to move.

_WUM WUM WUM._

Hundreds of eyes began opening. The entire ceiling was covered with Mogalls. Matthew could only watch in horror as their tentacles moved in the faint purple light.

"Run?" Sain suggested.

"Run," Leila commanded.

The four took off running as the Mogalls began to float down from the ceiling.

_Wumwumwumwumwum!_

Matthew had never seen a Mogall before. And he wanted to keep it that way, if possible. Ergo, he ran fastest out of the four of them.

And he hit the crumbling floor first.

The Vanisher's foot caved through, and his whole body followed moments later. Sain, Leila and Heather were caught up in the collapsing floor as well.

**『』**

"Damn…" Matthew groaned as he sat up. All he could remember was falling a long way. And judging from his hunger, he'd been out a long time.

But thankfully there were no Mogalls near him.

"Wake up guys," he said quietly. Leila and Heather stirred while Sain, who was already awake, pointed in front of him.

" _What_ is that?" he asked, dumbfounded.

In front of them was a large crystal structure. It glowed blue light, and jutted out pointy shards of the crystal.

But what drew Matthew's attention was the man trapped inside, holding a sword with a fierce expression.


	8. I Burn

**Chapter 8  
I Burn**

**『** **Thousands of Years Ago** **』**

The tent breathed regality. Not a shred of canvas held a spec of dirt. The posh furniture was in a similar state, no trace that the chairs had even been used. But all of that paled in comparison to the table made of the richest wood money could buy. Jewels hugged the edges on the sides of the table, each reflecting the glow of the lanterns with brilliance.

"What's the battle like out there?" King Marth asked as he leaned over the table with the area's map displayed in front of him. Cormag stood in front of the table that cost more than everything he carried inside his leader's battle tent.

"It's beginning to pick up, your grace," Cormag said. "Our Ylissean forces have met the Feroxi in battle. In a couple minutes, we'll have a full scale battle on our hands."

Cormag wore tight fitting leather clothes that exposed his muscles. He stood taller than everyone in the room, and stood in contrast as well with his tan skin tone. His yellow blond hair drew a striking opposite to his overall appearance. Light blue pieces of shoulder armor were strapped to his shoulders, and akin to said armor was the armored boots he wore as well. On his back was a large sword, its sheath made for easy access when drawing in a hurry.

In contrast to Cormag's simple attire of a soldier, Marth was dressed every bit like the King he was. A long blue cape, a gold circlet and no armor. After all, Kings didn't fight battles, their armies did. But the King of Ylisse bore the holy sword of their country in a sheath at his waist. The Falchion was a gift from the god Naga as reward for King Marth's efforts fighting Grima.

"That Valmese have sent word that they've engaged the Feroxi in the north," Marth's advisor, Jagen, said. His old body was confined to chair with its fighting days long past. "The other Valmese army has also met up with our force at the Plegian border and are marching on the Plegians."

"Good," King Marth said. "Any word from the Arulians?"

"No," Cormag answered. "Your Heralds haven't heard from them yet, your grace."

"Damn," Marth said quietly. "Do you think they'll come?"

"This is a threat that concerns all of Mira," Jagen scowled. "They will come, and they will either choose the holy side of Naga or the heathens." Jagen lowered his voice and grumbled, "Even if the Arulians themselves are heathens."

"Indeed," Marth commented. He abruptly looked up at Cormag and asked, "Have you had any visions from Naga?"

Cormag's hand drifted to the Avvenire that was at his belt. King Marth had bestowed it on Cormag after Naga had commanded Marth to give it to a worthy man. The knight of Ylisse had been honored, but now with the army counting on his visions, it felt like a burden.

"Nothing, your grace," Cormag bowed slightly, as if in apology. "Naga's blade is silent."

Marth brought a hand up and scratched his chin. Cormag saw for the first time just how young his King truly was. King Marth was only in his twenties, and here he was leading a holy war against two neighboring nations.

"We engage the Feroxi until further notice," Marth declared. "Cormag, go check to make sure if the Heralds have not heard from the Arulians. Have them report to me, and then find my wife, Caeda. You will fly into battle with her. And try to keep an eye on her if you can."

"As your grace commands," Cormag bowed and retreated from the room.

**『』**

"Any news?" Cormag asked as he walked into the communication tent. Men and women with the Herald Mantle were mumbling words for scribe to record as they received and sent messages. The scratching of pens to paper resounded throughout the tent, deafened only by the silent whispering of the Heralds. Cormag's voice was a tsunami to the calm he had intruded upon.

Heralds could only communicate with those they had physically interacted with. So while it was useful to have people who could communicate from any distance in Mira, they had to meet up first.

"Our joint army with the Valmese have engaged the Plegians at the Plains of Animas," spoke up a young green haired man. His voice was hushed, as quiet as it could be without interrupting the vital communications behind him.

"What's your name?" Cormag asked.

"Gordin, sir," he said. "What news are you looking for in particular?"

"The Arulians, what's their status, Gordin?"

"They haven't moved from their island," Gordin said, worry lacing his tone.

"Notify the King," Cormag ordered. "Keep him updated with our Valmese allies and the other Feroxi army."

"Sir!" Gordin saluted. He dashed away to inform King Marth.

"Heh," Cormag almost smirked. Now all he had to do was fight a battle against the Feroxi. Hopefully Caeda hadn't gotten impatient and left without him. If she had, King Marth would have his head.

**『』**

Cormag's lips withered into a frown as clouds dashed across the sky, covering the blue expanse. Weaving together into a grey blanket that held only small pockets of blue, and allowed precious few of the sun's rays to peek through. Rain would soon follow, as it always did.

"Finally," Caeda said with a smile. "I was wondering if the battle would be over by time you showed up."

"My Queen," Cormag bowed his head, "the battle has not even picked up into a climax yet."

"Oh, lighten up," Caeda said with a slight frown. "You're too serious all the time. And the clouds are plenty serious already."

"We  _are_ marching into battle, milady," Cormag protested.

"True enough," Caeda shrugged as she mounted her Pegasus. Behind her, all of the Wings took that as their cue to mount as well. "But marching into battle with a smile in your heart and the happy memories on your lips is a better way, is it not?'

Caeda fit the role of Queen with precision only a War Archer could match. Her long blue hair stroked by wind's hand, her silver armor glistening with the sun's attention. A long spear was in her hand, ready to feast on the flesh of Feroxi soldiers. King Marth had not chosen a weak Queen.

"Genarog!" shouted Cormag with command. Only a few dozen paces away, a Wyvern perked up and bounded over to Cormag. He let the blue armored man pet his scaly snout as the beast crouched down towards the ground.

"How did you even come by a Wyvern in times such as these?" Caeda asked curiously. "I thought only Plegia had Wyverns."

"Turns out Valm has them as well," Cormag said with a small smile. "Isn't that right, Genarog?"

The Wyvern growled playfully and let Cormag mount him. "He was a gift from the Valmese King. A gift to the one who wielded the Avvenire."

Caeda nodded. She turned to look at the still darkening sky, "Ready to fly?"

"Are you ready to keep up?" Cormag chuckled.

**『』**

In his left hand, he held the Avvenire. And in his right, a chainspear.

The beat of Genarog's wings pulsed through the air, strumming Cormag's body like strings on a harp. He, Queen Caeda and over two thousand Pegasus Knights flew into battle. A battle that would decide the future of existence itself.

"Does the sword show you anything?" called out Caeda over the winds. The once gentle caresses of the air had gradually turned unkind towards the mounted units.

"No," responded Cormag in kind. "Naga has been silent, it seems. But then there is nothing to distract me from the battle."

"Then we fight as humans! We'll start our own future today!" shouted Caeda. All of the women on the feathered wings of the Pegasi shouted in kind and began their descent. Genarog angled his wings and began a sharp dive.

Brandishing his spear against the wind, Cormag held it parallel to Genarog's scaly body while the Avvenire was positioned to block any attacks.

Genarog neared the ground and for the first time, Cormag saw the battle. The blue Ylissean forces clashed with the green Feroxi. The average Ylissean wore a blue uniform with silver armor over it while the average Feroxi wore green with light leather armor.

Ylisse held the advantage soldierwise, but the Feroxi were brutal. They never gave up, and showed no mercy.

"Savages," Cormag grunted as he saw a Feroxi soldier tear his axe through a Ylissean's neck. "Genarog! There!"

The Wyvern roared, its deafening cry reaching across the battlefield. Soldiers on both sides of the war turned to see what had caused such a racket. Tucking its wings in, the lizard bolted towards the Feroxi. When they drew close enough, Cormag flung his spear with the speed and force of a veteran soldier.

The spear buried itself into the ground after passing through the Feroxi man. With a yank of his wrist, Cormag pulled the weapon back to him via a thin chain that attached to the butt of his spear.

Genarog broke his dive with powerful beats from his wings. Wind crashed against the Feroxi and Ylissean alike, knocking them off their feet.

Cormag leapt from Genarog. He landed on his feet with a loud clank from his armor. The Ylisseans near him retreated to assist elsewhere. They knew that a Mantled would be able to take care of the small area.

"Have you said your prayers?" Cormag asked the Feroxi as they began to creep closer.

"We have, but to Grima, our true god," cried one of the Feroxi who got to his feet. "Naga has no power over us!"

"Nor over me," Cormag said. "I fight for my King, and my King follows the path of Naga."

"Your King is a fool," growled the same man.

"Destruction…Creation…what do they matter? Loyalty, compassion, those have power," Cormag spun his spear, the chain's slack hitting the ground. "Your god may be the god of Destruction, but it will not stop me from killing you."

With a roar, the Feroxi charged all at once. Cormag felt the familiar heat from within build up in his spearhand. The enchanted metal of the spear's shaft glowed orange and sprouted flames.

"I am Flamewalker!" shouted Cormag and flung his spear through the first man. As he did so, an axe was flung from one of the others. The Flamewalker easily blocked it with the Avvenire. "Challenge me, if you dare."

The men had forgotten one crucial aspect of Cormag though. And that was Genarog.

The giant Wyvern's tail whipped through the Feroxi that approached Cormag. Half of them were thrown from their feet.

Cormag slashed with the Avvenire in the wake of the shock caused by Genarog. The ghostly white steel of the sword tore through every soldier it encountered while the chainspear ended lives the Avvenire overlooked.

Before Cormag could become fully integrated in the battle, the clouds began to meld into a vortex of that sucked all light and life away.

And down from the center shot a pillar of flame. It collided with the ground on Mount Prism.

The familiar cry shot through the troops. "Hunter!" they shouted in despair.

A Hunter, one of Grima's undying warriors. They could be killed, only to rise back up only a day or so later. Nothing worked effectively against a Hunter.

So Cormag, or any other Mantled, was the only possible solution.

"Genarog!" shouted Cormag as he stabbed his spear through the stomach of a Feroxi man. The Wyvern charged towards its master. The knight hopped on his mount and took to the skies in as soon as he felt Genarog's scales.

With a single flap of his wings, Genarog climbed faster than any Pegasus Knight could. In seconds, Cormag was high in the air, his Wyvern taking him directly to where the pillar of fire descended from the sky.

"There he is! Get him!" shouted a voice. Cormag looked up and was forced to duck out of the way of a javelin that had been thrown only seconds after Cormag had detected the voice.

"Plegian Wyvern riders, Genarog," Cormag called out to his mount. "Just a slight detour, we have time. Think we can take them?"

Genarog growled in response, eagerly awaiting the battle that would come.

Cormag ripped the chain from his spear and wrapped the frigid, metal links around his body. With a twist from his fingers, the spear now faced the man who had thrown the javelin. Dragging his arm back, Cormag felt the metal of the shaft kiss his cheek.

_Focus…_  Cormag thought slowly. All that mattered was the Plegian that had assaulted him. The yellow armor of the man's country brought him out as an easy target against the backdrop of dark clouds.

In a single motion with no hesitation, Cormag hurled the spear at the Plegian.

The metal bolt flashed across the sky and tore through the helm of the Plegian. The yellow armored soldier toppled out of his saddle just as the scream began. It was a frightened scream more than painful. Cormag watched the body fall to the ground into the battle.

Three more Wyvern Riders flew towards Cormag. The blond man snarled, reaching down towards Genarog's side to retrieve a silver lance that had been strapped onto his mount's side.

Just as the Wyverns began to near him, a flash of white erupted in front of him.

"We've got these!" shouted Caeda, thrusting a javelin into the nearest Wyvern Rider. "Go take out that Hunter!"

"As you command, milady!" replied Cormag. "Genarog! To the mountain!"

Cormag's Wyvern roared and fly towards Mount Prism.

**『』**

Yellow collided with white behind Cormag as the Ylissean Pegasus Knights fought the Plegian Wyvern Riders. None of that was Cormag's concern any longer. The giant pillar of fire that still fell from the sky took the majority of Cormag's attention.

So much so that the knight almost didn't notice the stray Wyvern Rider approaching.

Genarog alerted Cormag by changing direction midflight. The blond man frowned at the sudden movement. When he saw the enemy, the Avvenire was swinging before Cormag could even think.

Unfortunately, the Wyvern Rider was equally as fast. His lance and the Avvenire struck one another. But the lance's bite was stronger, and the Avvenire flew from Cormag's hand.

Despite his training and the situation, Cormag watched in despair as the ghostly white blade was eaten up by the battle below.

"Shit!" swore Cormag as he jabbed the silver lance at his opponent. The valuable weapon's tip struck into the Wyvern's wing, searing half of it off.

"No!" shouted the Plegian as his Wyvern ceased its flight and began to rapidly descend to the ground. Cormag didn't watch to see what became of the man. From his vantage point on Genarog, he looked for the sword he'd lost.

"Damn damn damn damn!" muttered Cormag. A noise similar to the casting of dark magic resounded behind Cormag. "Turn, Genarog!" the rider commanded. His Wyvern twisted in the sky and Cormag saw the pillar of fire cease.

"…We make do without the sword," Cormag decided in a moment. "After that Hunter!"

Genarog flew down to the location on the mountain where the earth was scorched and nothing remained. In the center of the blackened crater, a purple clad man knelt on one knee.

"I'll do this on foot, Genarog," Cormag whispered to his mount. "Stay near."

The blue knight jumped the short distance to the ground. The Hunter in the smoking crater slowly stood to his feet.

"Seems like I've got my first victim," said the Hunter. His purple cloak was ordained with the mark of Grima several locations. The six eyed mark studied Cormag as the knight drew near.

"I will be the one to stop you, Hunter," Cormag stated. He gripped the silver lance tightly and bent his legs.

"Hmph," chuckled the Hunter. He drew the hood back on his cloak and let Cormag see his face. The man barely looked like a man, his childlike face and red hair making Cormag think of kids back in Ylisstol. "You may call me Tormod, the Hunter of Fire. And in Grima's name, I will incinerate you."

"You talk big, kid," Cormag commented, egging the Hunter on.

"See how you like this!" Tormod shouted, his voice changing from the young tone into a feral voice. Without an incantation of any kind, a torrent of fire was flung at Cormag.

The Flamewalker didn't move from his spot. The fire crashed like waves on a beach and Cormag didn't budge. When the flames died, the knight of Ylisse was unscathed.

"You're a Mantled, aren't you?" Tormod groaned. "I  _hate_ Flamewalkers."

"Whiney little brat," observed Cormag with an annoyed look. Without warning, Cormag leapt forward and stabbed with his lance.

Tormod hopped backward to escape. Cormag didn't stop the assault as he pressed Tormod further and further across the crater.

"Eat this!" Tormod shouted and held both hands out in front of him. Fire spewed forth and struck Cormag. When the flames cleared, Cormag once again was unharmed. "How…how is your armor not melting?" gasped Tormod.

"A little thing called ether," Cormag smirked. "My armor is made of ether crystals, and can't melt. And as a Flamewalker, fire is already useless against me. You picked the wrong fight."

The silver lance slit into Tormod's throat, killing him.

"Heh, if only all the Hunters could be so easily exploited," Cormag chuckled. He withdrew his lance and turned to look for Genarog.

Just as he did so, his Wyvern's head rolled to his feet.

"So sorry, he really was a magnificent beast," a smooth voice said. "You might know me as Levin, Hunter of Winds and Ice."

"You killed Genarog?" Cormag said, anger quickly taking over his emotions.

"Just as I said, so sorry," Levin bowed. "But he wanted to eat me. And you killed Tormod, so I was a little angry." The newcomer wore a purple cloak identical to Tormod's. With his hood down, messy green hair tumbled over the purple silk.

"Bastard!" Cormag screamed and thrust the lance forward. Levin brought up a breeze of wind and brushed the lance to the side, sending it into the ground.

"No need for that," Levin said and knocked the lance away with another gust of wind. "Grima has plans for you."

Cormag brought his gauntleted fist back and tried punching Levin. The green haired man caught the fist with no effort. The knight's eyes widened and Levin touched a hand to his forehead.

**『』**

Cormag blinked.

"You're inside the mountain," Levin said from a few steps away. "See all this?" He extended a hand towards the architecture, and Cormag realized he wasn't on the mountain anymore. "This was the civilization for Grima's faithful eons ago. And it's where we're going to keep you until we need you."

"You cannot  _keep_ me," Cormag snarled. He looked around the dusty halls, looking for a weapon.

"Try and stop us," the Hunter smirked. Cormag tried to move his feet, but couldn't. Icy tendrils gripped his feet. The crystal ice began creeping up Cormag's body. The knight reached to his belt and drew a long knife. Levin merely chuckled.

"Grima will have a use for you someday," Levin said as the ice rose to Cormag's chest and immobilized his arm movement, rendering the knife useless. "A man who can use the Avvenire is no small tool."

"I will kill you," Cormag said. "I swear it on my honor, and my life."

"You're life isn't worth much at the moment," Levin shrugged. And the ice encased Cormag's face, shutting him off from the world.

**『』**

Levin looked at his work with pride. The soldier wouldn't feel the passage of time, allowing Levin to thaw him out whenever he needed him.

But a man encased in a thin coating of ice would not be the safest measure.

Levin waved a hand and ice erupted from the ground and further formed around Cormag, making his prison look like a massive ether crystal deposit.

"Good bye, Cormag," Levin said. "I will see you eventually."

The Hunter disappeared into a breeze.


	9. Traitorous Bastard

**Chapter 9  
Traitorous Bastard**

**『』**

"Have you ever seen anything like that before?" Sain asked, his face illuminated by the glowing structure in front of them. Behind Sain and Matthew, Leila and Heather stood to their feet.

"Is it an ether crystal?" Heather wondered, taking a couple steps forward for a closer look.

"No, it almost looks like ice," Leila murmured. "Strange, glowing, and…unmelting ice."

"With a man inside," Matthew added helpfully. "Like a cocoon."

"Should we…try to get him out?" Sain asked. The green knight stood closest of all of them to the crystal. With a hesitant hand, he lay a finger onto the pale blue chrysalis.

As soon as Sain came in contact with the crystal, the soft glow grew stronger. Then it ceased, blinding them.

"Hang on," Leila said.  _"Ardeo."_

The ether torch began to glow, lighting up the cavern once more as something began to crack softly near Matthew.

"What's that noise?" Heather muttered, drawing her sword. Matthew did the same, the Avvenire's blade giving off some light to help with visibility.

"The crystal," Leila said, her voice betraying the fear Matthew could not see on her face. "It's breaking apart."

**『』**

The room was tucked away in the furthest corners of the castle in one of the highest towers. The only thing within its body was a round table with chairs. The floors were barer than even a farmer's house, the stone freezing every foot that tread upon it.

"So  _she_  is your newest kid?" Karel observed, looking down at the short, orange haired woman. The tall, blue cloaked man leaned against one of the stone walls.

"Karel, this is Cath," Navarre said. "And Cath, this is my brother Karel."

"She seems better than most of the idiots Ephidel makes you babysit," Karel commented.

Cath wasn't sure what to think of Karel. He seemed…familiar. As if she should feel something malicious towards him, but simply could not.

"Can she speak?" Karel asked.

"Yes," Cath said.

"You look stronger than when we last saw each other," Karel observed. "Less pathetic."

"You knew me?" Cath asked curiously.

"Hmph, you could say that. I knew you to an extent," Karel said. Turning away from Cath, he spoke to Navarre, "Is there a reason that I am here? The Anna I was tracking could be getting away for all I know."

"You're still pursuing them?" Navarre raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you'd given up."

"I have a lead. That thing I saw, the one I told you about, is approaching. I can feel it," Karel said quietly.

"The High King wishes to see you," Navarre said. "It probably has to do with that vision of yours you had. Or dream, whichever you wish to call it."

"You told him?"

"He asked me directly. I couldn't lie to him," Navarre held his ground.

"Damn him to hell," growled Karel. "That pretender has no idea what he's doing. Just because he's got Uther's protection makes him think he can do whatever he wants."

"We'll see about that. After all, Uther died three nights ago," Navarre said lowly.

"What?" Karel spoke, surprise contorting his face.

"The High King no longer has a legitimate backer. Hector will take the throne of Ostia and follow in his brother's footsteps," Navarre concluded. "But he is no Uther."

"How did Uther die?" Karel asked with curiosity.

"Illness, or at least that's what Ostia is saying. For all we know, it was poison," Navarre shrugged. "We didn't do it, of that I am sure."

"Zephiel, maybe?" Karel mused. "An interesting time for him to make a power play, if so."

"The best time, with General Steelwind and the Cornerstones out of the country," Navarre responded. "The High King's friends are few as of late. Only Hector, his attendant and daughter have his back."

"Ask Ephidel whose side he's going to take. Whoever gets the Morphs will have a huge Mantled advantage over the other," Karel said.

Footsteps groaned lightly, creeping closer into the room through the open door. "You boys should really close doors when talking about politics," Ursula critiqued. "Even up here, the High King could have ears. That wily attendant of his is good for that."

"I would love nothing better than to kill that Rennac," Karel muttered.

"You just got back from meeting with Ephidel, did you not?" Navarre asked Ursula. When she nodded, he continued, "Did he say anything of General Walhart?"

"Ephidel suspects he will make his play for the throne within the month. The Morphs are not interfering, and that goes with us as well," Ursula said, neither giving away any pleasure or displeasure at that statement. She, Navarre, Karel and the other operatives of Ephidel's that weren't Morphs would love nothing better than to shove a shiv into Walhart's jugular.

They may dislike the High King, but they hated General Walhart more.

"So I'm here to train your student, Navarre?" Ursula asked, turning her attention to Cath who watched the conversation flower before her.

"Indeed," Navarre said. "Brother, are going to meet with the High King?"

"Yes," Karel nodded. "After that, I am off to the Chasm."

Ursula turned her head sharply and said through a glare, "Why are you going there?"

"Something is hidden there that the Anna family is scared of. I'm going to find out what it is," Karel said before departing.

Navarre sighed, "I'll go see Ephidel to see if he has found anything more about Uther's death."

With the farewell of the red clad swordsman, Cath's attention focused completely on Ursula. She sized up the woman that was not familiar to her. The blue haired woman sat down at the table in the room and gestured for Cath to sit in the other chair.

Ursula took her scrutiny as confusion and said, "Once Ephidel has you doing assignments, I'll be teaching you about Valmese politics. Right now, I'm to teach you Seeking."

"My other Mantle, correct?" Cath clarified as she took her seat. The Morph was on edge, of the seat and mentally.

"Yes. You're a Seeker, like me," Ursula said. "I will teach you how to identify what Mantles your opponents have."

"Is that all Seeking can do?" Cath raised an eyebrow, still speaking monotonously.

Ursula leaned back in her chair and folded her hands, displeasure running its course through her eyebrows, "Seeking is seen as one of the…weaker Mantles. If all you can do is see what kind of Mantle one has, then what are you going to do about it? Working in groups is where a Seeker can shine, but is still a liability. But now you…a Morph Seeker and Coinshot, can fully utilize the Mantle."

Cath nodded, "Understood."

"Let's begin," Ursula said.

**『』**

"This is it?" Dart frowned, looking over the group Klein had assembled for him. At the mouth of the canyon, Dart and Geese were nearly ready to clean out the nearby area of Valmese.

General Klein nodded, "I could only find around one hundred people crazy enough to follow Raid Captains."

"If it's anything like the Suicide Squad, then I think one hundred will be plenty," Geese said. "We'll work with it, won't we, cap'n?"

"Fine," Dart grunted. "Anything else to note, General?"

"Just one more thing. Wil! Ike!" barked the yellow haired man. Two men, who could barely be called that, stepped forward. "These two are your seconds."

"They're a couple of little kids," Dart said in disbelief.

Klein nodded, "If you'd look carefully, you'd see most of the people here are kids like this. Veteran soldiers aren't crazy enough to throw their lot with you."

"Whatever," shrugged Dart.

"Let's get going," Geese suggested. "We've got some Valmese shits to kill."

**『』**

Emmeryn quietly muttered a prayer over the mound of dirt, not sure what good it would do. If Naga was watching, why would she let such a man die? Gonzales was simpleton, but he had a heart of gold. Emmeryn had seen that.

With that thought, a seed of doubt was planted in Emmeryn's mind.

Maris stood beside her, silently looking over her work. The woman with only one eye visible had dug the grave with her hands.

It was not hard for Emmeryn to see how useless she was.

"We've got to get out of here," Maris finally said, breaking the hollow silence that had dwelled over them.

"How? Our last attempt wasn't what you'd call successful," Emmeryn replied bitterly.

Maris shook her head, "I shouldn't have hid the sword. We should have tried to escape the minute I got it."

"So that's your plan? Just grab another sword and get us out of here?" Emmeryn asked cynically.

"Do you have a better idea?" Maris snapped. "We don't have many options here—"

"Someone's coming!" Emmeryn hissed without warning.

Before either could react, a tall man walked from between two buildings and saw them. It was Garret, the guard Emmeryn had seen her first day at the camp.

The tanned man didn't meet their eyes and continued onwards.

"That could have been bad," Maris whispered. "C'mon, let's get going."

Emmeryn nodded, "Whatever you decide to do, I trust you. And I will follow what plan you construct."

"Are all you Ylissean nobles this trusting?" Maris asked.

The fair haired woman chuckled, "Probably not. I'm still learning, after all."

**『』**

Chunk by chunk of the crystal fell to the ground. Matthew couldn't see very clearly, but the ether torch's light was able to lend him the ability to see what unfolded in front of him.

The icy blue fragments began to melt on the ground, seeming to have served their purpose. Now that they no longer held usefulness, the switch to water began.

The blond man in blue armor fell to his knees once his legs were free. Since she was the only one who could see without hindrance, Leila caught the man in her tattooed arms before he completely fell over. Sain quickly relieved her of the ether torch in order for her to gain a better hold on the man.

Heather took a vulnerary from her thick belt and crouched next to Leila and the soldier.

"What do you need that for?" Leila asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Heather pointed to the man's arm, "Look."

Where the noblewoman's finger pointed, a spike of ice still embedded itself within the man's flesh. As it melted, watered blood swam down his arm.

"He's certainly going to have an interesting story," Matthew mused as he drew the Avvenire. The glowing blade added a bit more light to the ether torch's red glare.

With the subtly of a lightning bolt, the man began to cough furiously as his eyes flashed open.

**『』**

Luke had rarely ever seen such a prime example of a knight. At the Ruins of Animas, every soldier was rugged and ready for dirty fighting. None were champions of Valm who gloriously rode into battle, their swords and lances aloft glistening in the sunlight.

The twin noblemen of Valm entered the camp at the helm of thousands of troops. Lords Camus and Sirius Dorian were the two strongest soldiers involved in the war. It was said only General Steelwind could surpass them.

Lady Lucia and Lady Brenya stood and waited for their comrades. For the first time since the war began on Plegian soil, the Four Cornerstones were united.

No one could deny that Camus was a very handsome man. His blond hair may have been constantly messed up and somewhat shaggy, but that just added to his appeal. Lord Camus wore one of the fanciest tunics ever made, it was completely black with gold artistic designs along the edges of the garment. The tunic came up to his neck like a turtleneck and reached past his knees almost like a waistcape. Only it resembled a longoat more so than a waistcape, albeit more suited for a nobleman. Around his waist was a brown belt that connected with another belt that reached over his shoulder. On said waist belt, there was a sword. A rapier that was both wider and heavier than a typical rapier. On his legs, where his nobleman's tunic stopped, were black armor guards for his lower legs.

Sirius' blond hair ran rampant similar to Camus'. Instead of black like his counterpart, Sirius wore dark brown ordained with gold. A long black cape waved in the wind while Sirius held a longspear in one hand. A sword was belted at his waist as well. But what set the man apart from any other warrior was his face. Over his eyes, Sirius wore a silver mask just above his nose that blocked his face from giving any features away. A black line stood out right in the center of it horizontally, presumably where Sirius could see.

"Seems like we're ready for a battle now," Luke heard Brenya say to the new arrivals.

"Indeed," Camus' voice boomed. "I believe that we shall be showing these Ylisseans the meaning of Valmese power quite soon."

Sirius spoke up, his voice sounding more sinister than his brother's, "Have there been any more battles since we last heard from General Linus?"

"Only a few skirmishes," Lucia said. "Nothing of import."

"Good. We have time to acclimate to a new battlefield," Camus said. The black clad man turned towards Luke and said, "Captain! Come here."

It took Luke several moments to realize it was he who was being addressed. Still unaccustomed to his new title, he stepped forward and knelt before the four nobles in front of him.

"What's your name?" Camus asked politely.

"Luke, milord," Luke replied, bowing his head slightly with his response.

"Just sir," Camus said lightly. "Captain Luke, would you do me the honor of showing myself and my brother around Fort Obsepio? We're on unfamiliar ground, and could use any information we can get."

"As you command, sir," Luke stood. "If you would follow me, sirs?"

"I will come as well. I could do well to get the lay of the land," Brenya said.

**『』**

Orson stood on the closest plateau to Fort Obsepio. His weary expression wilted as he saw a raid group drawing closer.

The tall man had brown hair that looked just about the begin greying. Simple armor ordained his body, the color of white. A long green cape descended from his shoulders that billowed in the wind. Underneath the cape and armor, Orson wore a black tunic of high wealth. He'd been a successful knight and General of Ylisse before he turned.

"Ylisseans approach. We will engage," Orson said to the group of soldiers behind him.

"Sir, there's around one hundred of them. We've got forty people," protested one of the men.

"Then we'll need to be worth more than two men," growled Orson. He abruptly began to climb down the ladder and make his way to the ground.

He'd hung back last battle, but this time, he'd fight. The Ylissean owed General Linus that much.

_Monica…I will be with you soon,_ Orson thought sullenly.  _Just one more debt to pay before I can see you again._

The once knight gripped his lance and looked behind him. His forty soldiers had finally gotten down from the top of the plateau.

"We meet them head on," Orson ordered.

"Suicide," whispered one of the women.

The brown haired man ignored her comment. He wished that his horse was by his side, but the traitor had been forced to leave his mount behind.

"We're fighting. If you aren't with me, leave and be branded deserters," Orson crowed. Without waiting for a response, Orson emerged from behind the plateau and charged the Ylissean raid party.

**『』**

"Is this all we'll be doing, Captain?" Ike asked as the raid group wandered through the canyon.

Dart shrugged, "Our orders say we're supposed to kill anything we come across. It's good enough for me."

Geese nodded in agreement, "Blood running through your fingers is the best feeling, ain't that right, cap'n?"

"Harhar!" Dart roared with a grin. "Doesn't get much finer than that!"

Beside Dart, Wil looked nauseous. Geese clapped him on the back and chuckled, "Don't worry, kid. Cap'n here'll watch your back."

"Kid?" Wil cocked his head. "I've seen twenty years. I'm no kid."

"Anyone younger than me is a kid," Geese said with a shrug.

As the sun snuck behind the high plateau, that was when the enemy struck. A group of forty or so Valmese attacked Dart's raid group.

"We're under attack!" Dart warned the obvious as he lifted his massive axe with one hand. Geese had two hand axes moments after Dart began to charge right into the fray.

The white bandana on Dart's head became flecked with blood, spotted like stars in the sky as the pirate's huge axe cleaved the first soldier in half.

Ike raised an armored gauntlet, deflecting a sword's bite. Cursing his inattentiveness, Ike swung his heavy blade at the aggressor.

_Always meet you enemy's eyes in battle! Give them the respect of being worth your time,_ Ike's father's voice filled his consciousness.

"Hyah!" Ike cried as he scored a hit in between the red armor of the swordsman. Blood mixed with the crimson plate mail and Ike's opponent collapsed, unmoving.

Another soldier took her fallen comrade's place. She slashed the thin blade at Ike, who barely managed to block the strike with his sluggish, heavier sword.

An arrow struck the Valmese woman in the chest. Ike turned his head to see the other second, Wil, taking an arrow from his quiver to replace the one he'd sent shrieking towards Ike.

But as Wil touched arrow to bowstring, the regal looking Valmese commander chose Wil to be his next target.

In his mind, Ike could only hear the blunt words of his father,  _What the hell are you waiting for? You're a soldier, and you have to protect those who can't protect themselves!_

The Valmese commander reached Wil. But just before his lance sailed for Wil heart, Ike's weighty sword halted it.

"Get back, Wil!" Ike called out. The archer behind the blue haired soldier looked up and saw the danger.

Ike ceased to pay attention to Wil. Ike may not have been a very book smart man, but he knew soldiers. Specifically how to judge the quality of an opponent.

The enemy commander scowled, "Asking for death?" His tone was off, as if he felt no emotions. No fear.

A man without fear on the battlefield was the most dangerous kind of soldier.

Ike sword thankfully was not far from where the soldier's lance struck. The blue haired man knocked away the white armored commander's lance. Taking a risk, Ike pressed the assault onward. With as much might as he could muster, Ike hacked his sword into his foe's shoulder.

It barely dented.

"Idiot boy," he said while shrugging off Ike's sword. "You think a simple soldier like you can defeat me, General Orson?"

"Orson?" called out Geese from nearby. The pirate jabbed the point of his axe into a helm, withdrew it and chopped the man's head off. "You're that damned traitor!"

The white knight jumped away just in time for Geese's thrown axe to miss him. But the man in the blue seafarer's coat took the fight to him with his other axe in hand.

Around the vicinity, the raid group's soldiers began silence all of the Valmese. Only a few were left, scattered and fighting their last stand.

Orson fought admirably against Geese who had the weapon advantage. But it wasn't Geese who ended the battle, it was the flat of Dart's axe smashing into Orson's back that brought the white knight down.

Geese stayed Dart's hand as he began to raise the axe again for the final blow, "Stop, cap'n! This is Orson, that Ylissean traitor General. We'll get a pay raise if we bring him in alive."

Dart's eyes glimmered with a pirate's greed and he said, "Bind the bastard! And don't hurt him…too much more."

**『』**

"You took your time," Marisa said with a raised eyebrow. "Where'd the Queen send you, eastern Ylisse?"

Lloyd chuckled as he sat down across from her. He rested his elbows onto the table that supported clutters of maps, notes and even a few tomes.

"Something like that," Lloyd said. "But I got here as fast I could. Even stole a Chocobo from someone."

"And where'd that get off to?"

"It pecked me and ran away the day after," Lloyd scowled. "Stupid bird."

"So are you ready to fight? Or has all your walking worn you out?" Marisa asked.

"Of course," Lloyd rose to his counterpart's challenge. "What's the situation out there?"

"Perhaps Farina told you, but we fought one large battle and won. But now the Four Cornerstones are here, and we're fucked unless we pull out some sort of wild card," Marisa summarized.

"The previous King, Cornelius, told me something once when he was grooming me to become Lord General. He said, 'The Lord General leads the battles with his mind and the Mantled General leads with his sword,'" Lloyd said, leaning back in his chair.

"Are you trying to imply something?" Marisa snarled, her hand slithering to her sword subconsciously.

Lloyd ignored the gesture, "I'm saying that you're no tactical genius. Master Canas is, and I can work with him to make a plan."

"So you want command of this war," Marisa stated.

"You're a soldier, Marisa," Lloyd said. "I'm a General. I'm no Switcher or Powerarm like my brother. My place is in the back, commanding an ordering. Your place is at the front lines, butchering and killing."

"How eloquently put," Marisa muttered. "If you want to be the leading authority in this war, then fine. Do whatever fucking makes you happy. But I will be your second, and Hugh your third."

"I thought you hated Hugh," questioned Lloyd with interest.

"I humiliated him when I first arrived, and then he proved himself to me," Marisa said. "I may be a stubborn, hateful woman, but he deserves it."

The pink haired woman stood up and brushed off her longcoat. The Mantled General left the room with no further words exiting her mouth.

As she left, General Briggid entered and said to Lloyd, "What did you do to piss her off?"

"I'm the commanding General at the Ruins of Animas now," Lloyd said. "Marisa will cool off, I suspect."

"If you're in command, then we better get strategizing," Briggid commented. "I just got back from scouting, and the Valmese are beginning to mobilize. I reckon we've got at most a week before our next clash."

"Fetch Master Canas, General Hugh and Captain Farina," Lloyd ordered. "Find Lady Eirika too, while you're at it.

**『』**

"Breathe," commanded Leila as the blue armored soldier coughed with the ferocity of a Feroxi winter blizzard. The blond man did as he was told and took several shuddering breaths of the mountain's musty air.

"Water," the man asked hoarsely.

Sain reached to his belt and took his flask. He handed it to the man and said, "Drink slowly." Before Matthew could even see the man take the flask, it was already drained and Sain took it back.

"What's your name?" Heather asked softly as she applied the vulnerary to the wound on the man's arm.

"Cormag," said the knight, albeit stronger and more confidently. The long awaited water seemed to have given him the vigor he needed. "Thank you…for tending my wound." A few moments later, Heather was done. Cormag stood up and flexed his right arm.

It barely moved.

"Looks like the ice pierced too deep and killed something in your arm," Heather said sympathetically.

"Damn that Hunter," grunted Cormag. He finally turn his eyes towards Matthew and his gaze visibly brightened. "But I see you have my sword. Give it to me so that I may reenter the battle. I am certain I have been away too long."

Sain looked most puzzled of the four and asked, "What battle?"

Cormag turned and looked at Sain as if he were an idiot, "King Marth's fight against Grima and the Feroxi, fool. I am Cormag, chosen wielder of the Avvenire. You've brought me my sword and now I must go back and do battle for my King."

"King Marth existed thousands of years ago," Leila said, curiosity taking hold of her tone.

"What are you blathering about, woman?" Cormag asked, turning back towards Matthew. "Boy, give me my sword."

"This sword is mine, old man," Matthew replied.

"You cannot use it," Cormag challenged.

"Except I can," Matthew shrugged. "I don't know how long you've been in that crystal, but it must have been a long time. Your brains are getting addled."

"You impudent bastard!" Cormag growled. "I could not have spent eons in that prison of crystal. It felt like no time at all."

"How about we make an agreement," Leila interjected, staving off the fight that would inevitably break out. "Let's get out of this mountain first. Then we'll show you outside. If you don't believe us, then we'll let you go on your merry way with that sword, alright?"

Cormag leveled his gaze at her for an extensive moment before he said, "Fine."


	10. Time Intertwined

**Chapter 10  
Time Intertwined**

**『』**

"We're going to need to find some way to get back up there," Leila said, pointing up to where they had fallen from.

"And how do you propose we do that? This torch does not give off much light," Cormag asked.

"We can use those stairs," Leila suggested. Within the torch's comforting gaze, Leila moved her hand from pointing at the sky and instead aimed it elsewhere in the area they resided in.

"What stairs?" Cormag frowned.

Leila chuckled, "That's right, I suppose you don't know. I'm a Nightwatch, I can see in here as if it were day time."

"Never heard of that Mantle before," Cormag admitted. "I'm a Flamewalker myself. I only versed myself in purely combat Mantles."

"Like Vanishers?" Matthew asked as the quintet began to move, Leila in the lead.

"Absolutely," Cormag said. "Nasty bastards, always running from battle."

"Maybe you could teach me a thing or two since I'm a Vanisher," Matthew commented.

"Two Mantled in one group?" Cormag raised an eyebrow. "Not surprising. They say that the Mantled have an affinity for each other. Innately, we get along better."

"And I'm a Shadowstrider," Heather piped up. "Since we're all sharing, I might as well too. Cooperation would probably help to get out of this infernal mountain."

"And you? Do you have a Mantle?" Cormag turned his head to Sain.

Sain shook his head, "I'm just a man."

**『』**

Maris flexed her fingers while guile shadows stretched longingly over her face. In front of her, the watch guard snoozed lightly against the wall of the building.

Having given the slip to the guards in her assigned building, Maris didn't have much time before they realized she'd flown the coup. That made getting the sword off of the guard all the more pressing.

Flexing her fingers in a force of habit again, Maris began to reach forward, ever so slowly inching until her fingertips drifted on the pommel of the sword.

Now came the hard part, taking the sword from its home: the sheath.

Thin fingers wrapped around the spherical pommel and gripped the warm metal. Biting her lip, Maris began the task of stealing the sword.

_Shiiiiiiiing._

Maris froze as the metal blade touched its sheath, uttering a low groan. The snoozing guard seemed restless for a moment, but soon returned to his slumber. Breathing again, Maris continued her work.

Five minutes of painfully slow work later, Maris' efforts paid off. She was once again the owner of a sword in a prison camp.

Just as she began to walk away, the sword obscured within her pants as best she could, a thought hit her harder than lightning.

That man was going to notice he was missing a sword if he woke up.

Gritting her teeth, Maris flexed her right hand. Taking quiet steps in front of the guard, she stared him right in the face.

With a flash, her hand covered his mouth and nose while her right hand gripped his throat.

The guard's eyes bolted open in a rude awakening. Just as he began to struggle, Maris jerked her knee up and into his groin. Any air he still held in his lungs escaped through his lips and nose after that

Quicker than getting the sword took, Maris had a dead man in her arms.

_Why didn't I do this first?_ Maris berated her stupidity. She set the body up to make it look as if the guard was merely sitting down and alive. Hopefully no one would look closely until she and Emmeryn were long gone.

**『』**

"Captain, would it be possible to march an attack force around the canyon itself?" asked Brenya thoughtfully as their tour of the fort brought them near the edge of Fort Obsepio. The setting sun ever so slowly began to end the day.

"Yeah, it's possible, milady," Luke responded.

Camus nodded, "Possible, yes. But it would allow Ylisse's archers and superior cavalry to take advantage of us. We've got our footsoldiers, but they aren't a match for cavalry on an open field."

"We'd have to decide if it's worth the risk," Sirius followed up.

Brenya nodded, accepting their explanations. Camus stepped up so he stood adjacent to Luke and said, "Captain, have you got any family?"

"Sir, only my mother. And a sweetheart back over in Valm," grinned the green haired Captain.

"I'll make sure you get back to them alive. Good work today, Captain. You have the rest of the day to yourself," Camus said with a small smile.

"Sir!" Luke shouted with a pleased expression. With that, he bowed deeply and departed.

"Striking soon would be optimal," Sirius spoke quietly.

Brenya brought a hand up to her chin, "I concur. We should have this war finished so as to go assist General Steelwind. Lord Solidor would appreciate it when he gets to Ylisstol."

"Lord Solidor in our debt would be nice," Camus mused. "But we cannot worry about him when there's a battle imperative to our victory."

"It'll be a load off our shoulders when he gets to Ylisstol. Our spies say that recruits for the Ylisseans flood into their army every day. Lord Solidor will put a stop to that," Brenya commented.

"Any word on other Ylissean nobles' movements?" Camus asked.

"All I've heard is that any of particular import are holed up in Ylisstol," Brenya explained.

"Solidor will dig them out and crush any resistance that's within the city," Sirius muttered. "What we should be doing is hunting down the three heirs to the Ylissean throne."

"I think the Morphs will be taking care of that," Camus said. "It's not our kind of work."

"True," Sirius admitted before falling silent.

"We should go," decided Brenya. "Let's find Lucia and figure out just how we're going to thrash these Ylisseans."

"Indeed," Camus nodded in agreement.

**『』**

"Do you see it?" Ursula asked, leaning forward as Cath stared impassively at her face.

Oh, Cath saw many things. She could see Ursula's Mantle beating to the tune of her heart. The spider web of crystal it was pulsed hard enough that Cath half expected Ursula's body to be moving alongside it.

"This is what a Seeker's Mantle looks like," Ursula continued, taking Cath's silence as a 'yes.' "Every Mantle has a different signature, or web, if you prefer. Memorizing is an extremely useful skill in Seeking."

"So all I must do is memorize some images?" Cath asked with what she hoped was curiosity. Memorizing was easy.

"Not quite. You should be aware that there are over one hundred Mantles, probably over two hundred with new ones popping up every couple decades," Ursula said. "Can you memorize that many?"

"No," Cath admitted.

Ursula smirked, "Good thing I'm here, in that case. There are some parts to a Mantle signature that can give you clues. Certain formations, color tones, et cetera. But we'll worry about that later. Because first, I need to show you how things can get difficult."

Cath watched the translucent spider web shimmer with shadow and blur. Blinking, Cath tried to see what she had seen before, but no matter how she tried to focus her vision, the image was unclear.

"See that? Everyone can do that," the blue haired woman leaned back in her chair. "While we can hide our Mantles, we can't completely obstruct them. Though you will miss it if you aren't looking."

"So there's a way I can still see it?" Cath wondered aloud.

"If I use my Mantle actively, you'll see it. And I'll train you to heighten your vision to the best of my ability. But just know that you can't see everything," Ursula said.

"Understood," Cath said.

**『』**

Cormag followed the four other people up the stairs, gazing longingly at his right arm. For the hundredth time, the knight tried to move his arm.

It moved a few inches up, and then fell. Just as it had every single previous attempt.

How was he to fight with one arm? Using a spear or lance was out of the question. Perhaps he could still throw one with his left hand, but the accuracy would be dismal.

He could at least fight with a sword. It'd have to be light, or lighter than the Avvenire had been. The long knife he had at his belt would have to work until he could get his hands—or rather hand—on something of sufficient build.

"Quiet," meandered Leila's whisper from the front of the group. "Mogalls are still about."

"Cormag, do you by any chance know the anatomy of this mountain?" Heather questioned randomly.

The blue armored man shook his head, "No. I was warped in her by the Hunter who attacked me."

"Hunter?" Sain asked.

"One of Grima's undying soldiers," Cormag supplied. "Tricky bastards are hard to fight."

"What's Grima?" Matthew asked, saving Sain the trouble.

Cormag stopped moving and turned toward the red cloaked man and asked, "Do you live under a rock?"

"No," Matthew said, seeming to be offended.

"I don't know what or who Grima is either," Leila jumped in. Sain and Heather both voiced similar phrases of assent.

"Grima, god of destruction? Counterpart to Naga, god of creation?" Cormag said, his voice so full of disbelief that Leila had to give him a shushing motion, lest he attract Mogalls.

"Never heard of him," Matthew shrugged.

"But he's the god of Plegia and Ferox! Both countries worship him, how could you not know?"

"Only god I know of is Naga," Heather said. "Never heard of any other. You either believe in her, or you don't. Or you believe whatever the hell Arulians believe in," Heather chuckled at her own joke.

Cormag fell silent. How could they not know? He had fought in a holy war for a king that Naga herself had picked.

Had time really passed?

"We need to move, not discuss religion," Leila said, ever the voice of reason. "If we want to find whatever Heather wants, then we need to get going."

Cormag scarcely paid attention as he followed the group, trailing in the back. He clenched his left fist, while the right hung loosely, untouched.

Maybe he had been asleep for a time.

**『』**

"C'mon, your feet work. Quit being such a pain in the arse," Geese groaned, pulling Orson by the collar of his tunic. Using a strip of cloth that Dart had, the raid group had bound Geese to the best of their ability.

"Oi!" shouted Dart as loud as he could. "Open the gates!"

The stubborn metal gates opened slowly. Dart wasn't expecting any sort of speed. It took a combined effort of fifty people to open the gates. But for all their slowness, the gates were some of the hardest for enemy invaders to trump historically.

When the gates finally welcomed them, Geese marched first with their captive in front of him. It was an arrogant move, but Dart enjoyed the reception they received.

It did not take the soldiers long to recognize their previous General. His white armor was mangled with blood, and the man himself looked gaunter, but none could mistake him.

General Klein was the first to meet them from the chain of command. "Well done, Captain," Klein said to Dart.

"Oi! I did work too, you know," Geese protested, clapping Orson on the shoulder.

Klein chuckled, "Thank you as well, Captain. When I sent you out there, I did not expect you to capture our traitor."

Orson coughed vehemently, "Good to see you, Klein."

The yelow haired General turned his attention to Orson and curled his lips into a frown, "Orson, the only thing you'll be seeing is a cell. Perhaps you'll rethink what you've done there."

"I have no regrets," Orson said, coughing once again.

"Dart, Geese, take this man to a cell. And make sure you find the shittiest one there," Klein commanded.

**『』**

Emmeryn nearly screamed when Maris tapped her on the shoulder. The woman with the cloth over her eye was keen enough to slap her hand over the fair haired woman's mouth, silencing any noise that'd distort the calm.

"I've got it," murmured Maris. "It's now or never, milady."

Emmeryn nodded, "Of course." Her breathing eased quickly having realized it was a friend.

_Naga...maybe this is how you're deciding to get me out of here. If it is, I thank you._

"Let's make this the last time we see this place," Maris said, gesturing to the dark room. Other prisoners slept through the night, and if they didn't, they pretended to.

The woman followed her purple haired companion, each brushing their dirty hair out of their vision. Maris approached the door that led outside first, holding a finger up to her lips. Moonlight was all that illuminated the night, but they were fortunate that it was only a few days away from the full moon.

Easing the door open, Maris quietly leaned outside. No guards stood at their posts.

_Odd,_ Emmeryn thought. But she wasn't going to complain. Less soldiers made the escape easier.

"We're heading to the south wall," Maris breathed.

"You lead," Emmeryn said, equally as quiet.

Maris nodded and began to walk to their left. At the first possible opportunity, the warrior woman turned off the main road that pierced the camp in favor for a gap between buildings.

The downside to such a move was the lack of torches. Only the moon guided them now, turning every guard walking the night into a looming silhouette.

"Guards, get back!" Maris hissed, leaping into the gap they had emerged from. Emmeryn did the same, though not nearly as lithely as her companion.

The typical chatter of soldiers slowly strolled towards them. Emmeryn prayed to Naga that they would move past them without noticing the two escapees.

Armor clanged as four dark figures walked past them without torches. The presumable guards continued by without incident.

Emmeryn exhaled,  _Praise to her name. Naga is watching._

"Move," muttered Maris. The sword in her hands twinkled in the moonlight, giving Emmeryn a way to follow her.

The two left their haven between the buildings and continued down the moonlit road. Silence embraced their journey, making every silent step count for them.

Taking her by surprise, déjà vu hit Emmeryn like stones from the prison labor. The Dreamseer had Seen this before, in a dream. Her and someone else walking down a moonlit street. And what would happen next—

A soldier emerged from between two other buildings only ten feet in front of them. He held a torch, which served as a boon for Maris more than him.

"Who's there?" the torch not giving off enough light for him to see their clear profiles. Maris acted without a second thought. Lancing forward, she plunged the glimmering blade through his helm.

The scream that followed would make them pay the price.

"Dammit," Maris swore as she pulled her sword back out. "Let's go!"

Emmeryn was all too happy to agree. The purple haired woman broke into a run with the Ylissean running as fast as she could behind her.

"What was that scream?" shouted a soldier a good distance behind them. Clamor began to gather, with soldiers attempting to figure out what had happened.

Maris and Emmeryn made it to the southern wall by the time they heard the exclamation they dreaded.

"Prisoner escape!"

"I'll toss you a rope down," Maris said as she increased her pace. Emmeryn was only able to dimly make out her friend's form scaling the wall lithely.

The Dreamseer looked around nervously. The torchlight from the guard station above her shown down upon the ground, depicting a battle that took place above.

Emmeryn identified the skinny form of Maris fighting a soldier. Their shadows danced, exchanging strikes that matched perfectly with the sonata of sword she heard above.

"You're one of the escapees?" a deep voice uttered, surprised.

Emmeryn whipped around with speed that rivaled the battle above her. The tall looming form of Garret, the guard she'd seen on her first day, stood before her.

"You…" she whispered, a pleading tone quickly overcoming everything else. "Please, just let us escape."

Garret stared at her, his expression revealed to her in the torchlight. It was stoic, preventing any form of assumption Emmeryn tried to make.

_Naga..._

A cry tore through the night from above. Was it Maris', or the guard's?

Emmeryn turned her head just as Garret punched her in the face, rendering her unconscious.

**『** **Thirteen Years Ago** **』**

Rain hit Matthew's face softly, hiding his tears from onlookers. Though it wasn't often that an upstanding citizen of Ylisstol gave a street rat any form of thought.

His shirt that didn't fit him very well sent him shivering. With no shelter, he and Cath were in the rain to suffer. The only semblance of safety they had was the door frame Cath was curled up in.

Matthew's ears caught the sound of horse hooves clacking the stone street. The grown haired boy perked up to see a single, blue armored soldier traipsing down the gloomy alley.

"Mister?" Matthew stepped out into the rain, looking up at the man on his high horse.

"Eh?" grumbled the soldier, looking around for who had spoken. His eyes turned downward to the brown haired boy. "What d'you want, laddie?"

"Please, mister. My sister is sick and we're freezin' out here," Matthew hurriedly explained.

The man turned his eyes to the orange haired girl curled up in the door frame. Matthew watched an expression pass over the man's face that he couldn't identify.

"Go to one of the back alleys, kid," the man advised. "The rain doesn't hit so hard there." He tapped his feet against the horse's sides, spurring it back into its trot.

"But what about my sister?" Matthew called out to the man.

"Pray," replied the man in kind. "Pray and hope Naga takes pity on street rats."

Matthew watched his form slowly disappear into the rainy fog. Scowling in the way only a child could, Matthew trudged back to Cath and nudged her awake.

"Hey, Cath," Matthew said quietly.

"Mmm…?" Cath groaned sleepily. Taking the small brown sheet of fabric Matthew had stolen for her, she wrapped it around her body even tighter.

"Let's go to the back alley. We might be able to stay out of the rain easier," Matthew said, gesturing for her to stand up.

"You said…not to go into the scary streets," Cath said through a few coughs.

"You're sick, and I ain't gonna let you get sicker," Matthew said, pulling her up.

Together, the two of them huddled close and began to walk to the nearest alley. Matthew knew the surrounding area fairly well, so what could have been a long process turned into a relatively short one.

"It's a little better in here, huh?" Matthew said optimistically.

"Yeah…" Cath murmured, sitting down against a wall. The rain thankfully didn't blow onto them directly, sending only a couple drops their way.

Matthew sat down beside her and said, "Want me to tell you a story?"

Another cough. "Only…if it's good," Cath said weakly.

"I'm a good storyteller," Matthew insisted.

"Then tell a good one," Cath giggled.

"Okay," Matthew said with a grin. "Once upon a time, in a magical world there was a princess. She was the most pretty princess in the kingdom too. And can you guess what her name was?"

"What?" Cath asked, as prompted.

"She was Princess Cath the mignifacent!" Matthew exclaimed.

"That's not how you say it," Cath complained.

"Quiet you, I'm tellin' it," Matthew insisted. "Anyway, Princess Cath was real pretty and she ruled the land like a good princess should. Givin' food to everyone and making sure all the kids had mommies and daddies.

"But then one day, a big scary dragon flew down from the mountains and attacked the city! He burned buildings and sent all the kids runnin' to Princess Cath for help.

"But I know what you're thinkin', how can a princess stop a mean dragon? Well, normally they can't. But Princess Cath was real smart. She could tell exactly which scary alleys were scary just from one look. And she could steal things with her words."

"Steal things with words?" Cath asked, confused.

"Yeah, she'd go up to one of the sellers and talk to them. Without any money, they'd give her food! Just because she was so good at talkin'," Matthew said.

"Wow," Cath said, awe in her voice.

"So since Princess Cath was keepin' the kids safe, she decided that it was her job to go and fight the dragon. The kids begged her not to go, sayin' that the dragon would gobble her up and that they'd be alone.

"But Princess Cath was real brave too. She wasn't afraid of any old dragon. In fact, she went right up to the big meanie and started talkin'.

"The dragon was real puzzled by this. Most people ran away from him in fear, but the Princess didn't. He got real curious and talked back to her."

Matthew's voice took on the deepest quality he could muster, "The dragon said, 'What are you doing? Why aren't you runnin' away from me?'

"Princess Cath said, 'Runnin' is too much effort. I wanted to have a chat with you instead.'

"Now the dragon was real curious, more than before. He got comfy and sat down in front of the Princess and said, 'What will we chat about?'

"'How about a game of riddles?' the Princess suggested.

"The dragon really liked this idea. Everyone knows that dragons like riddles. The big dragon said yes, and Princess Cath began.

"'What belongs to you, but gets used by other people more?' the Princess said.

"The dragon thought and thought and thought.

"But then he said, 'Your name!'

"Princess Cath smiled and told him he was correct. The mean dragon roared and asked his riddle, 'It has been around since the beginnin' of everything, but is only a month old. What is it?'

"The Princess was real smart, remember? And she wanted to use as much of the dragon's time as she could. So she thought and thought and thought, even when she knew the answer.

"'Give up?' the dragon asked, thinkin' he had won.

"'The moon?' Princess Cath said, like she was unsure.

"The dragon got angry, but she did get the riddle right. 'Everyone has it, and no one can lose it. What is it?' Cath said.

"The dragon was real puzzled. Princess Cath had the dragon just like she wanted. As the dragon thought, the knights from the kingdom sneaked up behind it. And then they surprised the dragon, and defeated him!

"There was a big party where all the kids and knights and other people cheered Princess Cath's name. And then everyone lived happily ever after."

Cath clapped and cheered, forgetting about how cold and tired she was. "Did that happen?" she asked, eyes widen with excitement.

"Yeah! It was in a far away place, so far away that there aren't even any Mantles there!"

"Wow," Cath said in awe. "That's so cool."

Matthew nodded and looked up at the sky. It had begun to turn a few shades darker, signaling the coming of the night.

Rainy nights were the worst, in Matthew's opinion. Not only was there the cold in the breeze, and the cold in the rain, but the sun said goodnight and dropped the air's warmth even further.

"Let's get closer," Matthew said, letting Cath lean into him. He took the brown fabric and wrapped it around his shoulders too.

And then the red woman appeared in front of them.

Matthew had to blink so much that his eyelids felt like falling off. A woman, had just appeared from nothing. Like something from a story. Matthew couldn't tell her age, she could have been ten years older than him, or thirty.

"Our secret, alright?" she smirked through a chuckle. "Is this your first time seeing a Mantled before?"

Matthew nodded, fear beginning grab by the neck and shake, chattering his teeth. On the streets, anyone could be a meanie. Though the red clothing looked friendly.

"Is she alright?" the woman asked, pointing at Cath. The young girl had her face buried into Matthew's body. She was shivering more than Matthew.

"My sister's sick. Can you help?" Matthew asked, afraid. Not of the woman, but for Cath.

"I think I can," she smiled. "What're your names?"

"I'm Matthew, this is Cath," the brown haired boy said.

"And I'm Anna. Let's get you to a warmer place," the woman grinned.

**『』**

"Did you hear the news?" Canas asked as he drew a thin line on the map.

Hugh turned his attention from his tome to his father, "Should I have?"

"Our raid captains brought in Orson," Canas explained calmly. "He's being held in the Prison Quarters."

"How did they manage that?" Hugh said without giving away any emotion.

Canas turned his gaze up to his son, "Apparently, according to Dart, he just attacked them with a group of forty soldiers. They didn't stand much of a chance against our raid."

"I'll need to visit him," Hugh decided out loud.

"Indeed," Canas said. He hesitated, then said, "And did you hear that Lord General Lloyd has taken the Mantled General's place?"

"Father, I am not bitter about losing my command. I'm displeased with how I lost it," Hugh said. "General Marisa openly mocked me, and I will likely never forgive her for it. A command I can get back, and have, but my pride is torn."

"Fair enough," Canas said. "The Lord General will lead well. He has much more experience than General Marisa, and is a much more suitable candidate for leader of Ylissean forces."

"I'll leave these tactics up to you, father," Hugh said, taking to his feet. "I'm going to go see Orson. I'll let you know what he has to say."

"Don't take too long. Planning for the inevitable attack is imperative for our triumph," Canas counseled, adjusting his monocle.

**『』**

"Don't worry, I can handle myself," Hugh said. "Leave us."

The guards to the cell glanced at each other and left without further protest. Hugh found himself in the company of a man he'd called friend. Only instead of standing side by side as he was used to, bars divided their friendship.

The cell was in poor condition, rust running its hands down the bars while water eroded the back half of the cell. No window gave sunlight into the jail, making the stench of mold strong. The Prison Quarter hadn't seen or felt heat since the day it was built.

"General Orson," Hugh greeted as he pulled a wooden stool up to the bars. "It's been a while."

"Eh?" groaned the voice of a tired man. "Is that you, boy?"

"It's General, now," Hugh corrected. "And I suppose it's just sir, right?"

Orson shifted into the torchlight, "Don't make me laugh. I don't deserve a knight's title."

"You shouldn't have abandoned us. You were a good General, and friend," Hugh said, leaning his head onto his hand.

"Someday General, you'll understand. A man lives his life making and taking debts. Eventually, they all catch up to him," Orson said softly.

"I'm sorry it has had to end this way, Orson," Hugh said equally as quiet. "I'll do my best to get you a merciful death." Hugh stood up and left the way he had entered.

Orson shifted back into the shadows and chuckled to himself, "End? Oh no…not yet. I've still got a part to play."

**『』**

Cormag brought up the rear of the group. They five of them walked quietly, their weapons out.

_Wum._

The soft hum of Mogalls bounced from the sides of the dark interior of the mountain. Cormag could almost feel their eyes on him, waiting for an opportune moment.

The knife in Cormag's left hand felt all the more inadequate on the topic of Mogalls. He looked at the white blade in Matthew's hands with slight jealously. Cormag should have been holding that sword, just as he'd sworn to his King that he would.

"This weapon you're looking for, will you know it when you see it?" Leila asked.

"Yes," Heather nodded. "It's just a matter of looking for it."

"We'd better get going, because I can hear them getting closer," Sain said, worry clouding his voice.

_Wum._

"Yeah, they're getting close," Leila said, tilting her head back. "I'm starting to think running would be a good option."

"Running is useless unless we can find some way to block ourselves off from them," Matthew said.

"There's door ahead, can you see it?" Cormag announced. He pointed a finger towards the wall, where the knight could dimly see the outline of a stone door. Some sort of faint light illuminated the passage.

"You've got good eyes, Cormag," Leila said. "It's a solid plan. Are we ready to run?"

_Wumwumwumwum!_

"Guess it's been decided for us!" Sain shouted and broke into a run. The Mogall swarm began to descend from the high ceiling.

" _Ardeo!"_ Leila shouted, the once very dim torch burst with light, letting every member of the group see the door.

Cormag barely registered as Matthew disappeared. The Mogalls behind him had Cormag more worried. If he had his right arm in working condition and a good spear or even a sword, the Mogalls would have been easy.

Sain reached the door first. Cormag seemed to be getting slow in his age, and made it through just after Leila did.

_Beaten by a woman,_ Cormag chuckled to himself despite the situation.  _Caeda would be pleased._

Heather was the last through the door. She'd turned around and began working with shadows. The Mogalls stopped moving towards them, their vision obscured by the blackness of Heather's Mantle.

"Close the door!" yelled Heather. "I can't do this forever!"

Matthew, who had already begun closing the door, shouted, "Sain, help me!"

The green knight jumped to Matthew's side and joined the struggle that was closing the door. When they weren't enough to speed the process up, Leila and Cormag aided them with their strength.

One arm felt like nothing compared to their efforts. Cormag grit his teeth as the door slowly began to close.

A resounding  _boom_ signaled the door's sealing. Heather collapsed to her knees with exhaustion, letting the shadows go.

"Tired already?" Matthew asked through labored breaths. His grin made it clear he was only joking.

"I am a stealth specialist," Heather said. "Stamina isn't my forte."

_Wum._

"Oh dear," Sain said, pointing his lance reflexively at the sound. A single Mogall entered the torchlight.

The massive eyeball was hideous. Surrounded by purple, wrinkled skin, the crimson eye blinked audibly. Writhing red tentacles sprouted from the back of the eye. The appendages began to shake back and forth very quickly as the bloodshot eye glowed purple.

Leila lurched forward, her silver rapier reflecting the torchlight. The thin needled blade inched toward the eye as three glowing purple circles surrounded Leila's body.

The tip of the rapier pierced the wide eye, eliciting some sort of mangled scream from the mouthless creature.

As they had appeared, the purple circles flickered out of existence, their purpose remaining unknown.

The corpse of the Fiend slid off the rapier and hit the ground with a  _thump._ An echoing  _wum_ softly traveled across the room.

"Nicely done," Cormag said, impressed. The woman in purple had reacted far quicker than he expected.

Leila chuckled and her tattooed arms pulled the green cape-like cloth tighter around her. "I try," she said with a smirk.

"What is that?" Matthew said, not even giving the Fiend's body a second glance.

The other four turned their heads deeper into the room. The ether torch only lit up the nearby area, but some sort of shrine glowed ahead.

"I think that's what we're looking for," Heather said confidently. She jumped up from her knees and walked through the darkness towards whatever lay in front of them.

Sain chuckled, "Ah, such a confident woman! Such a sight makes my heart beat a thousand times faster!"

"I'm not sleeping with you, Sain!" Heather shouted from the darkness.

"I—what! I never—" Sain sputtered, trying to string a sentence together.

Cormag clapped Sain on the back with his good hand, "Women are certainly something else, right?"

Sain nodded. "Someone who understands!"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Leila said. "Let's go check out what that is."

"Race you," Matthew challenged.

"You can't see without this torch, I can," Leila rolled her eyes. "Winning would be very easy."

Matthew swore softly at his oversight and followed his friend forward. Cormag and Sain brought up the rear, each still with their weapons loosely at their sides.

They found Heather standing before an altar that held up a long broadsword, very similar to the Avvenire. Except the blade glowed darkness instead of white light, and its entire form was dark grey versus the white grey appearance of the Avvenire. The blue gem in the crossguard brought out the only real color on the sword.

"This is it," Heather breathed. "This sword is what my Queen wanted me to find."

"Do you know what it is?" Matthew asked, taking a couple steps closer curiously.

"The Prima," Cormag said. "Just as the Avvenire was Naga's champion's sword, the Prima is Grima's sword. It gives dominance over the past."

"That name again. Grima…" Heather muttered. "I have a feeling we'll be learning more about him as time goes by."

The blond haired woman stepped up to the altar and lay a hand on the grey sword. Without any sort of display or reaction, Heather picked up the blade and held it in her hands.

"That's it?" Matthew said, puzzled.

"Huh?" Heather said, distracted as she examined the Prima.

"When I picked up the Avvenire, it immediately showed me a vision and marked me. Neither of these things seemed to have happened to you," Matthew explained.

"Marked you? What's that mean?" Cormag questioned.

"Here," Matthew extended his right hand. Cormag looked at the top of the brown haired man's hand in the torchlight. A mark of a square turned on its point with four pointed shapes branching out from each corner lay on his hand in black.

"I never got one of those," Cormag said. "And if I were to have, would it not have been the mark of Naga? That symbol isn't associated with her."

"Really? That's odd," Matthew said, mulling over the piece of information.

"We've got the sword, now let's get out of here," Leila said, breaking the mood. "Heather, quit fondling that thing and do it later."

Heather rolled her eyes and slid the blade between her and the thick brown belt she wore.

"There's stairs over there," Sain said helpfully, pointing over his shoulder.

"Isn't going up the wrong way?" Matthew said.

Leila shook her head, "Logically, there should be multiple ways out of here. Perhaps there's one at the top."

The five companions walked up the stairs quietly and after only a short time, stood at another floor.

Leila's gasp was the signal that something was off. Weapons all left their sheaths and stood ready to strike.

" _Ardeo,"_ whispered Leila. The torchlight grew even larger and revealed the slumbering beast spread out the room. Its black wings shifted methodically as it breathed in and out.

"Is that a dragon?" Heather said quietly, aghast.

"Bahamut," Sain muttered.

Matthew arched an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the dragon, "Who?"

"The story parents tell their kids, you know? The great black dragon Bahamut will gobble you up if you go out at night. I saw a picture of it in a story book once," Sain elaborated. "And this looks just like it."

"We can sneak around it," Leila said. "There's light coming from the other side of the room."

The five of them slowly crept around the sleeping beast. At one point they had to jump over its tail. Sain nearly jumped onto the tail on accident.

"Imagine if we had to fight that," Matthew breathed once they reached the other side of the circular room.

"Thankfully we don't" Cormag said.

"Let's find out where on this mountain we are," Heather said as she pushed the door open slowly, not wanting to wake Bahamut.

Light breathed onto them for the first time in over a day, and in Cormag's case, over several thousand years. Greenery greeted them with lush voices in the wind.

"Close that door," Leila ordered. Heather didn't complain, shutting the door with finality.

"I'd say we're halfway up the mountain?" Sain said, taking a somewhat educated guess from the view of the Ure below.

Matthew got Cormag's attention, "Hey, see that? That's the Ure, and I think that's where you fought a couple thousand years ago."

"That desolate wasteland?" Cormag raised an eyebrow. "Surely you jest."

"Stories say that King Marth unleashed a great power that scarred the land here," Sain said helpfully. "Sound familiar?"

"Sounds like Falchion…" Cormag muttered, puzzle pieces clinking into place. "I think you guys may be right. I have been asleep too long."

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Matthew grinned. "Hope you don't mind me holding onto your sword for now? I'll give it back after we destroy Valm and get my sister back."

"Seems like I'll need to be updated on some things," Cormag cracked a small smile. "But you owe me a sword to replace that one."

"Deal."


	11. Prelude of Death

**Chapter 11  
Prelude of Death**

**『』**

Lady Eirika glanced at the churning clouds above her. The wind swept through her clothes roughly like a wave crashing ashore. A cold had descended onto the usually hot land.

"Must it always be cloudy during a battle?" Eirika muttered, tapping her foot on the stone wall. Below her the gates slowly opened, the armored Ylisseans marching out into battle.

The muted silence held the truth that each soldier and commander knew, that survival was unlikely. No one panicked fortunately. Perhaps even the soldiers could see that one fleeing man or woman would tear their army apart.

"Naga, if you do exist, send help," Eirika whispered, her words carried away by the wind. "Please."

Footfalls of determination hit the ground behind her as a voice said, "It is time, Lady Eirika."

The aqua haired woman turned to see Captain Raven. "Any details?" she asked.

"No. But we need to move out now," he said with a tone all too calm for the situation.

Her hand rested on the rapier at her side, "Let's show these Valmese what it means to defend a country."

Captain Raven barked a laugh, "Let's survive first."

**『』**

"Cecille…I  _will_  see you again," Captain Luke whispered, clutching the pendant within his fist. "Pray for me," he breathed.

"You done, Captain?" Linus asked. He pointed at their gates, the red armor well on their way through, "I won't let Lady Lucia get out there first and show me up."

"Sorry sir," Luke said quickly. "I do that before every battle."

"What, pray?" Linus asked as he began to walk towards the gate, Luke in tow.

The green haired man shook his head, "No, promise my sweetheart I'll see her again. She gave me this pendant before I left Valm for this war."

"Huh," Linus shrugged. "Then try not to get killed. I don't like making house calls."

"I'm inclined to agree with you, sir," Luke said.

**『』**

"Steady…" Farina's voice carried through the blinding clouds. None of her Wings could see ten feet into the dark mass that engulfed them.

"How many do you think they have?" Lalum asked quietly. "A thousand? Two?"

"My guess is in between," Farina mused. "Wyverns are hard to transport on ships, so I doubt Valm would have bothered with very many."

"And they're probably mostly with General Steelwind in the north," Lalum agreed. "But do you think our five hundred can match them?"

"We'll need Lady Luck on our side. And Naga would probably help, if she's out there," Farina grunted. "But we're faster, we can do it."

"I pray you're right. I'd like to live to see Ilia again," Lalum said wistfully, speaking of Farina's homeland in Ferox. "Ferox's snow is quite beautiful."

"Get your mind back to the present, Lalum," Farina ordered. "I think I heard something."

A roar tore through the clouds just as a  _huge_  yellow armored Wyvern descended, its rider's lance aimed directly for Farina.

"To the left!" shouted Farina. Her Pegasus obeyed without a second thought, thankfully.

"Agile as ever," the rider's deep voice boomed. The members of Farina's Wing angled their lances at the newcomer, warily looking around for other Valmese.

Except this man wasn't Valmese.

"Those are Plegian colors!" hissed Lalum into Farina's ear.

"Declare yourself!" challenged Farina, her lance ready to pounce.

"Already forgotten a fellow mercenary? How rude," the man's laugh boomed through his helm. He reached up and began to take off the helmet that drew such a stark contrast to the backdrop.

"Shit…" Farina whispered.

"Ha, did you forget ol' Trabant from Plegia?" the brown haired man shouted.

Yellow armor streaked with brown taunted Trabant's opponents. The older man's long brown hair would have obscured his face, were it not for the hair band around his forehead. His age was apparent, a man between his forties and fifties. Yet the way Trabant carried his lance, Gungnir, gave enemies of his a pause. The blood red cape ordained with the crest of Thracia, his dukedom in Plegia, made it very clear he was no simple Wyvern Rider.

"Valm has so nicely handed over their Wyvern Riders to me to command," Trabant called out. "I've got three thousand wings at my side. Think you can best that!?" He raised Gungnir to the sky alongside the roar of his Wyvern.

Hundreds of roars returned the call.

"Dammit," Farina hissed. "Trabant, you bastard!"

"A compliment!" the older man laughed. "Dame Farina, you're too kind. You alone have called me far worse. Now have at you!"

**『』**

"This…is an idiotic plan," Ike groaned.

"Quiet!" snapped Geese. "We're the distraction, and that means getting into the danger! The only real way to fight is bloody."

"You know, even as a cap'n, I never did anything so reckless," Dart mused with a grin. "I like this General Lloyd, he's got balls."

Wil breathed out, calming the rampaging heart that threatened to explode out of ferocity.  _It's just like a normal mission. Just like a normal mission…_ Wil tried to convince himself.

At least three legions of troops marched from the Thunder Plains to the Mid-Clearing. Huddled in the off shooting gap between plateaus, the raid party hid from sight.

One hundred fifty against fifteen thousand.

"Oh shit," Wil gasped, panic constricting his neck.

"Deep breaths, lad," Dart said, glancing down at the brown haired man. "You're like a sailor on a boat for the first time. This ship ain't going down while its cap'n is still standing, though."

"Yes, Captain," Wil said, gulping in air.

"Heh, hear that Geese? I'm a cap'n again, with this Raid Cap'n business," Dart grinned.

"That makes me a cap'n too, cap'n," Geese chuckled.

Dart's face shimmered into a frown with an eye blink, "You're a right damn landlubber, Geese. You ain't no cap'n until I damn well say."

"You're a bit jealous that I'm on equal status with you," Geese grinned.

Dart grunted, "Boy, we'll settle this after the battle. Axes, at sunrise. Just the two of us, and I'll teach you who the cap'n is."

"Look," Ike interrupted, pointing towards the plateau above them. General Hugh waved his hands above them, his hand coated in flames.

"The signal," Geese stated.

"It's time to get bloody," Dart grinned. His unharnessed his axe from his back. Swinging it a few times to warm his muscles up, he spoke, "I know this is the time to say something all inspiring and shit, so I'm going to have Geese do that."

"What?" Geese asked, taken aback.

"Say something badass before we go fight," Dart ordered.

Geese, still caught by surprise, cleared his throat, "Uh….kill!"

"Works for me!" Dart screamed and ran out of their cover. Taking advantage of the lack of allies near him, the sea captain took the widest swing with his axe that Wil had ever seen. It connected with five separate soldiers, and it brought five bodies to the ground.

Geese, of course, was the next into the fray. The rest of the party jumped in with vigor, sending shockwaves of confusion through enemy ranks.

Wil felt the feathers skim against his cheek as he brought the bowstring back. Around him, the few other archers were firing arrow after arrow into the horde of red, felling soldiers.

_Just like a normal mission._

The bowstring snapped back to its original position with a  _twang._ The white tailed arrow found its mark in an unsuspecting soldier's side, opening him up for Geese to kill.

"One after another, one at a time," Wil muttered in a mantra as he strung another arrow.

**『』**

"Support them!" shouted Hugh, as he raised his hand.  _"Meteor!"_

Meteor was not an easy spell to cast. Not only did it require an absolute mastery over fire magic, but the ether it consumed could render lesser mages useless for a battle—or the rest of their days.

Hugh felt more than half of his ether expire. Looking to the sky, the meteor Hugh had harkened from the sky hurled toward Mira with frightening velocity.

With enough speed to create a crater, the meteor collided with the front of the three legions.

Hundreds of screams cried out, and were silenced in a mere moment. Then as the flames spread to more Valmese soldiers, the screams picked up in a fervor.

Reaching into his pocket, Hugh palmed a red ether crystal. The glow dimmed as Hugh's body absorbed the energy.

The General dropped the dull rock to the ground and forgot about it as he raised his hand once more.

" _Meteor!"_

**『』**

"Get to cover!" screamed Lucia just before the spell hit the troops. Soldiers looked up at the meteor that sped towards them, and began to scream. Only seconds later did their screams cease.

More fire began to rain down on the Valmese legions from lesser mages around the plateaus. Men and women ran every each way in discord. The Ylisseans who had attacked them on the ground level were making decent headway towards where Lucia and Brenya stood.

"Watch out!" Brenya yelled as she threw return magic back at the mages. Lucia Vanished just in time to evade the embrace of the fire. The magenta haired woman knocked one of the mages off of his plateau with a well thrown lightning bolt. "Lucia, go take that Meteor caster! I'll take on what they throw at us here!"

"Understood!" Lady Lucia responded before Vanishing with a flash of white as a second Meteor spell descended. A second later, she stood several feet behind the green clad mage.

"Damn, you're the Vanisher, aren't you? I had been hoping Marisa had been talking about some other person in white," the purple haired man said, turning around.

Lucia drew her broadsword, brandishing the shiny blade, "I am Lady Lucia of House Silver, one of the Four Cornerstones of Valm. As a General, Mantled and bearer of an Arulian longcoat, you'll be hard pressed to beat me."

"I don't doubt that," said the man. "I am but a simple man, General Hugh, son of Canas. I have but one title, I have no lands, nor peerage of any kind. I am what you noble folk call a commoner."

Fire flared in Hugh's hands, "But under no circumstance should you underestimate the finest graduate of Ylisse's Magic Academy. We as a country specialize in fire magic. Would you like to see how long it takes that longcoat of yours to burn?"

Lucia shifted from an attack stance into a cautious one, ready for attack, "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

**『』**

"Leave anyone who cannot be saved!" Brenya yelled to the clerics. "Saves those that can fight again! I won't have us failing here, on some battlefield halfway across Mira."

Staff users ran between bodies with practiced efficiency. Whispering incantations to themselves, the recovery from the Meteor spells began.

But it wouldn't last long.

"Lady Brenya! A legion is headed right for us!" shouted the Captain who she'd met the previous day.

Luke continued, "General Linus says he has the Ylisseans behind us taken care of, and that we need to surge forward!"

Brenya nodded, "Rally the men to your command, and meet the Ylisseans."

"Yes, commander!" Luke shouted back, turning around to shout at the Valmese soldiers.

A white sigil surrounded Brenya's feet. To her horror, the magenta haired woman could feel herself being whisked away to another location.

**『』**

Canas threw the staff aside as Brenya appeared across from him on the plateau.

"A Rescue Staff? Ingenious," Brenya complimented. "Now I'm away from my army, and without protection. But I see you have no guards either."

"Lady Brenya Cross, it is a pleasure," Canas greeted, bowing. "Outnumbering you would not do a woman of your caliber justice. I have heard of your rise through King Alvis' court, and I cannot help but respect such a feat."

"You're a fancy man," Brenya said. "I will give you that. But your naivety will prove your undoing. I will not take such mercy on you."

Canas waved his hand, displaying a small pulse of dark magic, "I wouldn't dream of it, Lady Cross. I feel that you might have more trouble than expected."

Brenya slashed her hand in front of her, wind tearing from her fingers and blowing into Canas with the ferocity of a blizzard.

" _Flux!"_ Canas boomed, darkness strangling the life out of the winds.  _"Nosferatu!"_

A sigil of black flames overshadowed Brenya. Before she could cast a spell in retaliation, the black fire  _leeched_ ether out of her and swirled back to Canas.

"Damn you," Brenya said, out of breath. "Dark magicians like you are a greedy sort, stealing other people's energy."

"It's a fair tradeoff," Canas shrugged. "I keep my youth, to an extent, while the magic devours my soul and identity. At least I'm comfortable while it does."

"I never saw the appeal," Brenya snarled, her hands cackling with electricity. "With your death, there'll be one less of your kind to worry about."

"Perhaps…or not," Canas chuckled politely.

**『』**

Ike yelped as an arrow streaked past his arm, nearly finding its home inside him. A swing of an axe prevented Ike from looking for the archer. The blue haired soldier blocked the strike with a gauntleted arm.

Jabbing his sword forward in an ineffective way (His father, Greil, would have things to say about that), he eviscerated his opponent. The corpse fell to the ground with the crash of armor Ike was quickly becoming familiar with in war.

"On your left!" shouted Geese as one of his smaller axes hurled inches away from Ike into a Valmese archer.

Ike glanced around. The raid party was quickly being overrun. There were only about twenty of them left.

Three Ylissean bodies  _flew_ towards Ike. He ducked, and looked for what caused such a scene.

"Can your meager force stand up to a Mantled?" the newcomer challenged. He spun his claymore in his hands, "Especially if that Mantled is a General of Valm?"

"Linus, is it?" Geese called out.

"That's me," Linus grinned. "Ready to die?"

"Don't regret those words, for they will be your last!" shouted Geese as he jumped at Linus, holding one of his axes at a deadly arc.

Faster than should be possible with such a big weapon, Linus swung his Claymore and cut Geese in half.

"Geese!" shouted Dart as both halves of Geese hit the ground.

"Was he a friend? Sorry about that," Linus said. "But this is war, and that kind of stuff happens." The General turned to the Valmese around him, "Take them prisoner. Kill them if they resist, but try not to."

**『』**

"We saw this coming," reminded Captain Raven.

Marisa shook her head, "Yes, but I wasn't expecting this many."

Red swept over the flat area around the canyon of the Ruins of Animas. At least four legions, possibly more.

Lloyd had predicted it, and they had saved their main force for such a battle. But the men and women in the canyon itself were bound to be slaughtered, and then Fort Obice would be pincered.

"We must have hope," Eirika said. "Hope that somehow we can prevail."

"Our cavalry is superior to theirs," Raven said helpfully. "And our spearmen aren't useless."

"Except Valm has four times as many mounted units, as well as almost an entire legion of heavy armored units," Marisa said bitterly. "We're outmatched, outnumbered and outclassed."

"And that's why I don't have you as our central General anymore," a new voice said.

Lloyd stepped up next to the three as they watched the encroaching army. "You give up too easily, Marisa."

"Sorry that we seem to have met our match," the pink haired woman ground out.

"Lady Eirika is right," Lloyd said. "Hope is our strongest weapon to give our troops. We can't have a leader throwing it aside so carelessly."

"Of course," growled Marisa.

"Raven, proceed with the plan. Buy us as much time as you can for us to assemble our army properly," Lloyd commanded. "We have to be in perfect form to have a chance at winning."

**『』**

"Quit moving around so damn much!" shouted Trabant as Farina once again evaded Gungnir's stab.

Around them, her Pegasus Wings were doing their best to fight back against the Wyvern Riders. And they were doing the best they could under the circumstances, but it wasn't enough.

"Lalum, you got that spell ready yet?" Farina hissed.

"Be patient, sister dear," Lalum mumbled. "It'll be ready when it's ready."

Farina's response was lost as she dodged Trabant's next attack, this time returning her own with a flash of metal.

"So you can fight back!" Trabant announced. "About time!"

" _Ignis sagum!"_ screamed Lalum as loud as she could.

"The hell—" Trabant's question was answered in the middle of asking it.

From the dark clouds, a haze descended. A haze of boiling flames, incinerating all flesh it touched. Like a curtain ending the show, it scattered all of the Wyvern Riders.

Screams of soldiers mixed with the screams of the dead as countless lizards began to fly away with their masters' commands.

"Damn you maggots!" Trabant shouted at them. He turned back towards Farina, "We'll finish this later. I've got some skulls to bash in for insubordination!" The massive Wyvern flew away, with Trabant screaming at his troops.

The Pegasus Knights cheered, even though they were down to a Wing and a half left.

"Lalum?" Farina said.

"I think I need a nap," she murmured, leaning into Farina.

"Remember to hold on until I can drop you off," Farina grinned. "You did well."

"Heh, I was damn amazing, wasn't I?" Lalum chuckled exhaustedly.

"You bet," Farina agreed with a smirk.

**『』**

"What?" Lucia said in surprise as her sword smashed against metal.

"You think I'm completely unprotected?" Hugh smirked, holding a knife in his hand. It locked its hilt against Lucia's blade.

"I didn't take you for a fool, but I didn't take you for someone who could use a knife," Lucia admitted.

Hugh laughed, "I'm really only good for blocking. Which, when I can do this, works just fine."

Lucia looked down at Hugh's other hand to see the cackling blaze of fire. Lucia Vanished just in time to escape certain death. But General Hugh still spouted a stream of fire from his hand towards her.

Forced to Vanish again, Lady Lucia appeared behind Hugh.

"Won't work!" he shouted and stabbed with the knife. With a swift stroke, Lucia knocked the knife from his hand, sending it over the edge of the plateau.

"Ah, shit," Hugh groaned.

And then an arrow sprouted from Lucia's shoulder

"Nice one, Hugh," Klein's grin could be heard audibly from where he stood, twenty paces away. "You gave me the perfect shot, that is, if you weren't standing in the way."

Lucia growled and Vanished. She didn't reappear.

"Perfect timing," Hugh admitted. "I would have been dead there. Those Meteor spells took a lot out of me."

"Just be glad that Valm's mages are mostly up in Ferox. Otherwise we'd have a serious problem," Klein said.

"Are they really trying to pincer us?" Hugh asked.

"Yeah," Klein said, his grin turning to a frown. "They committed more soldiers than we expected."

"Can we hold them?"

"There? Yes, at least for now. But down below, we need help badly. Canas has Brenya involved in a fight, but that may not last too long," Klein explained. "Briggid is the only one holding the force below together."

"Then let's go give Valm some hell, Ylissean style," smirked Hugh.

**『』**

"This will be a massacre," Sirius quietly said.

"The sooner it is over, the better," Camus remarked. His horse walked a brisk pace. It didn't need to run, because if the cavalry charged they'd leave behind the heavy armor units.

Besides, the Ylisseans knew they were coming anyway. It was impossible to hide such a huge force while they assembled.

Sirius nodded, agreeing, "Yes. But if the Ylisseans surrender, we should accept."

"Getting soft, Sirius?" Camus said, somewhat surprised.

"There's no need for this war. Ylisse is too damn stubborn to give up. They should cut their losses, we'd be merciful," Sirius muttered.

Camus wished sometimes he could see Sirius' eyes to glean something from his brother's expression. But the mask prevented that, of course.

"Sirius, you know how the battle at Ylisstol worked out. People were killed in the streets," Camus said. "We gave the Ylisseans the reason to never surrender. They see us as murderous conquerors."

"We left all of those over in Valm," Sirius said. "After all, I don't see Zephiel over here."

Camus laughed, "Brother, you wit is still just as sharp as always. That's why our King likes you."

"The High King likes everyone who doesn't try to kill him," Sirius muttered.

"True," Camus said. "Except for Lord Hector. I'm sure he has brought our King drinking and gotten to the point of near death."

"Did you hear the news this morning?" Sirius asked.

Camus brushed a stray strand of his blond hair away, out of his vision, "What did we hear?"

"King Uther is dead. Hector shall be King soon," Sirius responded.

"No!" Camus gasped in horror.

"They say it was disease, but Rennac thinks it was poison."

"Damn," Camus whispered. "The High King is more vulnerable than ever before. This is a bad time for us and Steelwind to be out of the country."

"Rennac and King Hector are all that stand between Zephiel and the Black Throne," Sirius said. "We have some people to contact after this battle."

"Indeed," Camus said, disturbed. "King Zephiel is certainly taking advantage of our absence."

Sirius pointed, "Look, here they come. Perhaps a parley group?"

Around three hundred men and women awaited them only shortly ahead. They stood with weapons out, but they made no move to attack.

"Sirius, grab the Paladin Ritter. We're going out to meet them," Camus declared.

"As you say," Sirius left to follow orders as Camus began to ride out. The Cornerstone in black's horse covered the distance in less than a minute. Sirius and his cavalry were right behind him.

"General Camus," greeted the red haired man. "I am Captain Raven of the Shepherds."

"Well met, Captain Raven. I have heard tales of the Shepherds," Camus greeted respectfully.

"I have come to challenge you to a duel, General Camus," Raven said. "A fight to the death. If you win, Ylisse surrenders. But if I win, you retreat."

Camus' eyes widened, "Those are steep stakes for you, Captain."

"I know," Raven said. "But right now, they're better odds than you've presented us."

"True," Camus admitted. "Do you swear on your honor that Ylisse will surrender to Valm?"

"I swear it on my honor," Raven swore.

"Then we have an accord. Give me five minutes to prepare," Camus said.

"Agreed. Let me know when you're ready," Raven said.

**『』**

Canas flung his arms up to his face as the fireball smashed into the ground in front of him. The force of the explosion sent Canas flying backwards.

"For a mage, you're pretty weak," Brenya commented smugly, setting another fireball ablaze in her hand.

"Try getting to my age and doing better than I am," Canas grumbled. "I'm nearly fifty, logically you should be trouncing me with ease."

Canas rested his hand on the ground, letting dark magic seep through and be absorbed by the plateau.

"The battlefield is no place for old men," Brenya said. Was that sympathy he heard? "But I'm sure your country appreciates you trying."

"Well, there is one thing I have that your generation does not," Canas said.

Brenya cocked her head, "And that is?"

"A few tricks up my sleeve," Canas chuckled.  _"Flux!"_

The dark magic leapt from the ground at Brenya's exposed back. The magenta haired woman tried to escape the devouring mass, but despite her efforts, her arm was still caught by the magic.

"Lady Cross, it has been a pleasure," Canas said, getting to his feet. "But I really must be on my way. The battle below needs me."

"You will pay for this," gasped Brenya, holding her arm in pain.

"Better act quick. You might be able to save part of the arm," Canas said as he sprinkled warp powder on the ground at his feet. The white circle of rune appeared, whisking the dark mage away.

**『』**

Captain Raven turned around to his Shepherds as his opponent took his time to ready.

"Men and women of the Shepherds, it has been an honor serving with you," Raven said. "It is unlikely I'll win, but if I die, give these Valmese bastards hell from me.

"General Marisa will be here soon with the rest of our army. If I die, we won't be surrendering. I may have sworn on my honor, but my words don't bind me in death."

"Sir!" shouted his three hundred soldiers in unison.

Raven turned back around, drawing his broadsword. With the heavy blade in his hands, he felt ready. The nicks and scratches on the silver weapon told the story of Captain Raven and his many battles. He'd had this blade since the beginning of his soldiering days.

He'd die with it in hand.

"Captain Raven, shall we begin?" Camus asked, walking forward. The Shepherds and Camus' Paladin Ritter formed a circle encompassing the two.

"At your ready," the red haired man said, resting his blade on his shoulder.

Camus bent his legs and brandished his lance. In his black gloved hand, Camus held Gradivus. It was a weapon passed down his bloodline. The butt of the lance looked as if it could kill someone, an elegant black spike that was almost an entire foot long. The entire shaft of the lance was engraved with gold against the black metal. At the point of the lance was a massive spearhead. There were two offshoots from the main lance itself. Two spikes shot downward from the spearhead and two shot upward, the ones traveling up longer than their counterparts. And lastly, the main spearhead was more than a foot long. Embedded at regular intervals were red rubies along the center of the tip.

"Quite the weapon there," Raven commented as he slowly began to inch forward.

Camus smirked, "Beautiful, isn't it? This lance has been in my family for generations."

"I'll be glad to take it off your corpse when I—" Raven left the sentence in favor of jumping at Camus, bringing his sword down upon the man.

Camus blocked Raven's attack with the shaft of Gradivus. The two held at a stand-still for a few seconds before jumping back.

The Cornerstone twirled Gradivus in his hands before slashing with it as if it were an axe. Raven hastily deflected the attack with his sword.

"I suppose that's what those blades on the side are for," Raven said, taking a wary step back.

"Each are sharpened as much as the central blade," Camus explained. "This lance is not a typical stabbing weapon, as you can see."

"No shit," mumbled Raven. Anything else he had to say was lost when Raven sliced horizontally at Camus.

The man in black swung the butt of his lance up and knocked the sword away. Camus followed through and jabbed at Raven, trying to impale him with the black spike at the put of the lance.

It worked, Camus scored a laceration on the side of Raven's torso. The red haired man swore loudly while leaping back. The Cornerstone let him escape and took a defensive stance.

Raven stood still. The two commanders eyed each other from their sides of the circle, waiting for the other to make the next move.

Camus began to walk forward with a slight swagger in his steps. Both of them knew who the stronger soldier was, and who would win if things continued as they were.

The Cornerstone thrust Gradivus into Raven's chest. The Captain blocked the attack as his sword caught one of the gaps separating the blades on the lance. The main point was less than an inch away from Raven's chest.

"Your efforts were valiant," Camus commended. "But in vain."

Camus thrust Gradivus forward, overcoming the strength Raven had committed, and let the lance dig into the Ylissean's chest.

Raven opened his mouth to scream, but no words came out. Camus pulled the lance out of the Captain's body, and let the dying man fall to the ground.

Camus took several steps back and looked at the Shepherds. They all stood, stone faced and stoic, watching their leader bleed to death on the ground.

_Admirable discipline,_ Camus thought.

A glowing light embraced Raven's body. The light of a Physic Staff, the long range tool of a cleric.

Camus looked around wildly to find the bastard who dared interfere with their duel. A lone man stood on a hill a quarter of a mile away. Just as Camus was about to order the man's death, a man on a horse joined him.

"Soldiers of Valm!" shouted the man, his voice amplified with some form of magic. "The time for you to leave Ylisse has come. I will not let your atrocities continue any longer. I'll stop you myself!"

"Who the hell does this guy think he is?" Camus muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Soldiers, get rid of this idiot—"

"I am Lord Ephraim, Duke of Renais!" yelled the man with aquamarine hair. "And I brought an army!"

On cue, thousands of cavalry soldiers marched up onto the hill and stood alongside their lord. The sun had begun to shine through the clouds, its rays reflecting off the plate armor of the horsemen.

"Damn…" Camus cursed.

"Charge!" shouted Ephraim and spurred his horse down the hill.

**『』**

"My brother has come," Eirika whispered in shock.

"We're not out of this yet," Lloyd said. He turned around to face the army he was at the helm of, "Men! Women! Lord Ephraim has come to our aid. With Renais' cavalry, we can destroy these Valmese bastards! Let's give them a fight to remember!"

A jubilant cry rose from the mass of blue troops. Lloyd turned to Marisa and said, "Give these Valmese a beating."

Marisa smirked, "With pleasure."


	12. Ideals

**Chapter 12  
Ideals**

**『』**

"You're leaving?" Matthew raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect you to leave as soon as we got back." The five of them had made it to the outside of the tavern in the village five minutes ago when Heather announced her departure.

"Places to be, my friend," Heather said from atop her horse. No Chocobos were available, much to her discontent. "I've got the Prima, and that's what my Queen commanded. She ordered me to return to Ylisstol, so that is what I must do."

"Ride swiftly, then," Leila said. "Whatever it is you must do, I hope you succeed."

"Here," Heather tossed a small bag to the purple clad woman. "That's what I owe you for this escapade, plus a little extra."

"Your kindness is much appreciated, dame Heather! But must you be so quick to leave your Sain all alone?" Sain gasped in mock agony.

"Get a grip," Cormag rolled his eyes. He turned his gaze up to Heather, "Go do as your Queen commanded. Loyalty is a servant's greatest asset."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Sir Cormag," Heather bowed her head respectfully. "And to the rest of you, I bid you luck. Give Valm a good smacking for me, will you?"

"It'd be our pleasure," Leila smirked.

"Hyah!" Heather shouted, cracking the reins that spurred her horse forward. As the sky began to mist into the dark of night, the blond woman's form faded away.

"Alas, another beauty who slipped through my fingers," Sain cursed. "Am I just a man to be trifled with by Naga?"

"In my time, we'd say Grima is watching over you," shrugged Cormag.

Leila chuckled, "Don't worry, Sain. She wouldn't have gone for you."

"How can you be so sure?" Sain gasped. "I'll have you know, I am a paragon of confidence, and the ladies love confidence. At least, that's what my mother told me."

"I think you're plenty confident," Leila consoled. "But her checking me out has me thinking that you never stood a chance."

"What? Really?" Matthew chuckled. "Didn't think she'd be one to fight on the other side. With those clothes, I expected her to want all the male attention."

"Matthew, women are women. We men were never meant to understand them," Cormag sagely murmured. "Or we'd be floundering like Sain, over there."

"Cormag, you're quite the learned man," Leila grinned, her eyes doing the laughing for her.

"I feel so insulted, my gallant-ness is waning," Sain sullenly groaned.

Matthew laughed and threw an arm around Sain's neck, ruffling his hair, "Oh, come now. I'll find you a woman. Just watch me."

Sain grinned, despite his demeanor, "Make sure she's a fine one on the eyes."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, my boon companion," Matthew agreed.

"Hey! That's my line!"

Leila and Cormag watched the two banter from the sidelines, each with small smiles on their faces.

"Feeling alright?" Leila asked quietly.

"Actually, I am," Cormag said with conviction that surprised himself. "I left a lot behind in the past. Friends, even family. But I'm a soldier, and my loyalty is what cuts me deepest. But…if Valm indeed attacked Ylisse, then I know what my King would want me to do. He'd want me to cut them where it hurt the most."

"Quite the King," Leila complimented. "Seems like a stronger candidate than our Queen."

"Is she flawed? Has Marth's courage and intelligence dimmed over the centuries?" Cormag asked.

"Emmeryn is a perfect peacetime leader. She's kept Ylisstol and the countryside clean and well supplied. The public loved her, and poverty was less obvious than ever before," Leila said fondly. "But war…that is a battle she did not know how to fight."

"Ironic," Cormag chuckled. "Marth seemed like a puny little man before he got his crown. He was the one who'd quiver in fear during a thunderstorm, even as he grew of age.

"But when he was tasked by Naga to drive out the infidels, he rose to the occasion. I saw him turn into a man that day, and grow into a warrior King after that."

"So what you're saying religion can change anyone?" Leila asked with a slight exasperated tone.

Cormag shook his head, "No. An ideal can change a man or woman into anything. No one is stone, humans are fluid. They can be weak one day, and strong the next. And on the flip side, they might be a friend and betray you when you look away."

"That's something I can get behind," Leila said. "Look at Matthew. His sister was taken captive by Valm, and I've never seen him better. Instead of being a lay-about, he's driven now."

"I would not have expected that," Cormag stated. "He hides it well."

"Oh, it's obvious he's hurting," Leila disagreed with a chuckle. "You just don't know him well enough yet."

"Understandable," Cormag chuckled.

"Just understand revenge, and you'll be fine," Leila said in a dark undertone. "We've each lost something, and we're going to get it back or make them pay."

"What did you and Sain lose, if you don't mind my asking," Cormag turned his head to meet her eyes.

"Sain lost an entire squad of friends. I lost a little sister and a woman I might have followed to hell and back," Leila replied. "Anna was an interesting woman. I'd have done anything she asked, if it wasn't for the fact that believed in Naga."

"Not a practitioner, are you?" Cormag guessed.

"Me and Matthew, we both don't see the appeal. Muttering at the air doesn't change much, does it? Especially when no one is there to hear it," Leila shrugged.

"I saw Naga bestow a sword onto me," Cormag began. "And I cut people apart in her name. At first, I believed because Marth did. Then, it decayed. It didn't matter that I'd seen her work magic I couldn't understand. I just didn't accept her as my god."

"Saw too many dead bodies, did you?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" Cormag asked, surprised.

Leila pointed at Sain, who was having a calmer conversation with Matthew now. "I talked with Sain when we were switching watches once. He told me something similar."

"I suppose I'll fit right in with this group, won't I?" Cormag smirked, pleased with his luck.

" _Rrrr…"_ agreed the wolf behind them.

Cormag spun around, reaching for his weapon he did not have. Leila did the same, except she drew her rapier.

The wolf cocked its head, its tongue popping falling out of the wolf's mouth as its tail wagged excitedly.

The Flamewalker crouched down by the wolf and scratched his head. The black animal let Cormag do so with an extra excited tail going wild.

"He's not a Fiend," Cormag announced, hearing Sain and Matthew approach. "I think he wants us to follow him."

"How do you know that?" Matthew asked with a voice filled with skepticism.

The wolf began to walk away, casting its head towards them as if to ask, 'What are you waiting for?'

"I had a pet wolf as a kid," Cormag said. "Let's go."

**『』**

"You wanted to see me?" Navarre's voice pierced the silence his master had concocted.

"…Yes," Ephidel murmured. The Morph stood on his balcony overlooking the city. The center of Valm's power was in the Kingdom of Daein with the High King at its head. The city of Excelsum was capital of that Kingdom, and where Ephidel overlooked.

"And why was that?" Navarre asked.

Ephidel turned around, "Your brother, Karel, told me something interesting not too long ago. About a certain sword, the Avvenire."

"What about it?"

"I want you to go retrieve it. That sword could be the key to everything, even what is happening at the Chasm," Ephidel said, his monotone barely fluctuating.

"How could it be the key to everything?" Navarre asked, skepticism clouding his tone.

"It is the sword of Naga. The sword that sees the future," Ephidel explained. "And we both know what's locked up in the Chasm. Another god, a counterpart to Naga."

"So you want to free whatever is there?" Navarre said warily.

Ephidel shook his head, "No, I will strike it down with a weapon that just might be able to hurt it. And then we will work on defeating Naga, once and for all."

"You would destroy gods until our world has none?"

"This world is old. It is time for a new power to be recognized, the power of the Mantle. That is the god I choose, whether it exists or not," Ephidel said.

"I did not expect this to be our mission when the High King asked us to stop these holy wars," Navarre grunted.

Ephidel chuckled, but there was no mirth in it, "We all had our ways of dealing with this threat the High King recognized. I shall purge gods from this world. Steelwind wanted the world united under a single banner so we'd have nothing to fight over. And of course, Zephiel and his lords think that there needs to be a change in leadership."

"If the rumors are true though, things are going to come hunting us down when they realize what we plan to do to that god in the Chasm," Navarre warned.

"These 'Hunters?' We will be ready for them," Ephidel said. "Now go get the sword. Everything depends upon it."

**『』**

With a fire burning at long last, Heather unsheathed the Prima once again. She held an odd intrigue with the blade.

The sword was Grima's, the god of destruction. Cormag had told her that much, but Heather couldn't help but wonder why Naga and Grima fought. She hadn't been able to ask Cormag, unfortunately.

"It is a bit of a wonder, isn't it?" a man said, sitting across the fire from her.

Heather's training as a Hand triggered. She jumped over the fire and stabbed with the Prima in an attempt to kill whoever it was.

"That won't work," the man said, now standing where Heather had been moments before.

"Who are you?" Heather growled, not letting her guard down.

"I'm the man who last held that sword," he said. "And I'm here to help you."

"You didn't answer my question," growled the Hand.

The man stepped into the light. He wore red armor, dulled from time and use. It was similar to Cormag's blue armor. In fact, it was identical, except for the color difference. The man's blond hair drew the same contrast with his tan skin like it did with Cormag.

"I am Glen, wielder of the Prima before you. You met my brother, Cormag, I believe," Glen supplied.

"Are you…alive?" Heather sputtered.

"No, I don't think so," Glen mused. "My spirit is in that sword. The Prima is the sword of the past, and it holds its past warriors. I'm here to help, however you want me to."

Heather lowered the sword, "Can you fight?"

"I am only a phantom. You are the only one who can see me," Glen said. To prove his point, he stepped straight through the fire and emerged unscathed.

"Well, at least the ride to Ylisstol won't be as lonely," grumbled Heather. "C'mon, let's figure out just what your deal is."

**『』**

Dart had lost track of the number of times he'd tried to force his chains. He'd thought it was somewhere around twenty, perhaps?

The captain asked Ike how many times he'd tried. Ike claimed it was closer to thirty.

"I hate being in a cell," Dart growled.

"Who doesn't?" Ike replied.

There were seventeen of them left. Seventeen left of one hundred and fifty. Dart's raid had fallen far, that much could be seen from even the dullest fool.

And they had lost Geese…

General Linus walked into the cell block, drawing every prisoner's attention. His expression looked strangely pained.

"Here to gloat?" Dart asked.

Linus said nothing as he walked over to the cell adjacent to Dart and Ike's. One of the guards in the prison opened the door and let his commander in.

Dart slid closer to the bars of his cell to try and see what occurred outside his cell. Linus stepped out of the cell, holding Wil by the back of his blue shirt.

"They said they wanted him to be first," Linus said, none of his typical confidence in his voice.

"As you say, sir," the guard nodded.

Linus quickly left, leaving Dart alone in his thoughts—and worry.

**『』**

Lady Brenya Cross was not pleased.

Her left arm, or what was left of it, throbbed in pain. Originally, she'd had kept her thumb and next two fingers, only losing her last two.

But the damn dark mage's spell worked its way through her skin, forcing the healer to chop off her hand completely.

The magenta haired woman glared at the stump, as if it would somehow regrow out of submission.

"It'll take time to get used to it," a low voice said.

Brenya looked up to the doorway of her room. Lord Sirius stood there, expression unreadable as ever.

"Losing part of yourself always hurts, no matter how small," Sirius said.

"Did you need something?" Brenya snapped back, heading off the conversation and twisting it to her preference.

"My brother sent me to get you. It's time," Sirius stepped aside, leaving the doorway open.

"Go on ahead. I will be right along," Brenya ordered.

Sirius nodded and took his leave.

Sighing, Brenya looked at her stump. Magic would be a struggle, or at least spells that required two hands.

Not to mention that back in Valm within Alvis' court, she'd be shunned.

"Canas…" breathed Brenya, "you will pay for this."

**『』**

When Emmeryn came to, she wasn't quite expecting to be sitting in a chair. Or facing Maris who sat similarly.

And still inside the camp. Naga hadn't delivered her from the torment. Was she wrong to have as much faith as she did?

As she attempted to stand, the ropes at her feet and arms brought her back into the chair's prisoning hold.

"So here I was just going to sleep, expecting to have a normal slumber, when Garret brings both of you in here," the Warden, Jerme, said from his desk next to the chairs.

Emmeryn stayed silent, not wanting to incur Jerme's attention.

It was no use. "You, the fair haired one. I was most surprised to see that fancy little tattoo on your forehead."

Emmeryn's heart beat faster that the wings of a hummingbird. If Jerme found out she was the Queen—

"So now I've got a mercenary and a Ylissean fanatic. Pity I didn't notice that tattoo when I was whipping you. I might've been able to sell you back for a decent bit of gold," Jerme said, his tone turning annoyed. "But now you're all damaged, and no one would want you."

"I'm sure someone would want me," Emmeryn spoke up, sounding dead.

"Oh?" Jerme grinned. "And why is that? Got a special someone that you're never going to see again? I'm afraid I can't recall your name."

Emmeryn continued in the dead tone, "I am Baron Lowell's daughter, Heather Lowell. He would pay a large price for my return."

"Tell me about your family, Heather," Jerme leaned forward. "See if you really are a Lowell."

"My father is Faval Lowell, Baron of the southern lands in the Renais Dukedom. My older brother is Klein Lowell, General in the Ylissean Army. My next oldest brother is Claude Lowell, Priest of Naga," Emmeryn recited, having spent so much time with them as her relationship with Heather continued.

"Seems like you know the Lowells," Jerme conceded. "But I seem to remember a crucial fact about House Lowell that you might be forgetting. They all have hair the color of yellow to come degree. You've got some of the blondest hair I've ever seen."

"Regardless of whether I am a Lowell or not, they would pay to see my safe return," Emmeryn didn't let up.

"I don't doubt they would, like I said, you clearly know them," Jerme said. "But weighing gold against the pleasure I can take from torturing you doesn't add up. You are a unique woman,  _Heather_. Never have I been Warden over such an innocent, stupid woman before."

"Leave her alone," Maris said weakly. For the first time, Emmeryn's eyes were drawn to the cuts on Maris' body, near the chest. They weren't fatal by any means, but she had been losing a lot of blood.

"The sleeping princess awakes," smirked Jerme. "You both ought to be lucky that I am not a sick man. I won't take you somewhere to have my way with you. I am above such an act."

Jerme stood up and opened a drawer in his desk. "But," he continued, a sly twist taking his expression, "I take my pleasure in a different way."

From within the drawer, he pulled out a regal knife. When he freed it of the sheath, Emmeryn saw the jagged edge.

_No...Naga, please no..._

Jerme stepped up behind Maris and rested a hand on her shoulder, "Sometimes a simple cut can show a man just how much two people care about each other. For example, watch this."

The brown haired Warden slid the normal side of the knife along the edge of Maris' neck, drawing a thin cut.

A thin cut that bled profusely.

_NO!_

"Maris!" shouted Emmeryn. But only the beginning of her exclamation could be heard. That's when Maris' screams overpowered the fair headed woman.

The mercenary tried to speak, but wasn't able to formulate words. Her mouth moved as Emmeryn watched her eyes grow heavy.

Maris' head fell limp and hung, held only by her neck.

"And that, is how you find out how much people mean to someone," Jerme chuckled as Emmeryn sat back into her chair, staring at the woman who had been her companion over the past months and weeks.

_Naga..._

**『』**

"You're leaving?" Cath asked, surprised.

Was she even able to say she was surprised anymore? Was surprise an emotion, or reaction?

"I'm off to collect something for Ephidel," Navarre said as he strapped one of his sword belts around his lithe waist.

"Try not to die," Cath advised. "You still have more to teach me, I can tell."

"Probably," Navarre chuckled lightly. "But pay attention to Ursula. She knows what she's talking about."

"What are you going to find?"

"A sword, it's called the Avvenire," Navarre shrugged. "Anyway, I must be going." The man in red stepped to the window and chuckled, "I always did like leaving this way."

Navarre vaulted through the window, relying on his powers as a Coinshot to take the fall.

Cath said nothing as she stared at where Navarre had been standing, deep in thought.

_Avvenire…_

The face of a grinning brown haired man leapt into her mind. His mouth was moving, but Cath could hear no words. He grinned, laughed and smiled, all emotions natural to him.

_Matthew?_

Who was Matthew? A man from her past? A lover, or a friend?

Cath felt her hand creep up to her throbbing head. The orange haired woman leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, hitting the floor without a note of noise.

She needed to think.

**『** **Thirteen Years Ago** **』**

"Welcome to your new home, or at least until we can find your parents," Anna introduced, muttering the latter part of her sentence.

Matthew's eyes lit up as he saw the house.  _And_ Anna had said the upper floor belonged to her as well. "You live  _here_?"

"Yep, all by myself, courtesy of my sisters," Anna said. "But before we talk more, let's get your sister in bed."

Matthew and Cath followed Anna up the stairs. The youngest of the three stumbled several times before they finally made it to the bedroom. Anna and Matthew helped Cath into bed, and the girl was asleep as soon as she hit the bed.

"Let's go talk downstairs," Anna said. "I'll check on her later."

Matthew nodded and followed her back to the main level. Anna gestured for him to sit in one of the several chairs as she took one opposite him.

"You can drop the act, Matthew," Anna said. "What do you want to say?"

"Why are you helping us?" Matthew immediately asked.

Anna shrugged, "I've just got a heart of gold, don't I?" Anna chuckled at her own joke, "No, in truth, I could use some helpers."

"And that's us?" Matthew narrowed his eyes, though he looked cuter than he did threatening.

"You two needed help. I needed a few people to help me out. It seems mutually beneficial," Anna explained.

"What does mutually beneficial mean?" Matthew asked.

Anna laughed, "Don't worry about that. If you two stay here, I'll teach you to read and how to survive in the world. If either of you want to leave at any time, then I'll let you go."

It seemed like a fair deal to Matthew. Plus he liked the woman, and the color red. "Deal," he said, reaching out his hand like he'd seen grownups do.

Anna smirked and shook his hand saying, "I trust this'll be a profitable relationship?"

"What does profitable mean?" Matthew struggled to pronounce.

**『』**

Canas cleaned some dust off his monocle before saying, "We've suffered heavy casualties, but we're alive." He nervously rustled some of the papers on the table within the Generals' Quarters.

"We made them pay in blood for every death we suffered," Ephraim said with resolution. Lord Ephraim was exactly as one would expect of a noble. He wore a light blue shirt covered by plate armor of a similar color to his teal hair. Said plate armor was only part of a full set, allowing for a spearman to fight on the ground with more mobility. Attached to his armor was a cape, black on the top and orange on the bottom. In his hands was an ornate lance, one that had likely been crafted for Ephraim himself.

"Aye," Lloyd agreed. "What are the standings between the two armies, Master Canas?"

Canas looked down at the reports in his hand as he angled his monocle, "It seems we're in a rough spot of trouble. Two thousand spearmen, one thousand swordsmen, eight thousand horse, one thousand five hundred archers, one hundred fifty Pegasus Knights and fifty mages."

Silence hovered over the room like a looming vulture until Marisa interrupted with, "Fuck."

"Crude, but the Mantled General is right," Canas said. "On the flip side, the Valmese have, and mind you these are estimates, ten thousand spearmen, three thousand swordsmen, five thousand horse, three thousand archers and four thousand armored units. Plus the thousand or so Thracian Mercenaries that appeared."

"I'll have to agree with the Mantled General here," Briggid said. "Fucked is an adjective to describe our situation."

Lloyd leaned forward onto large table and asked, "They have no mages?"

"Not of significance," Canas said. "Likely there are more than ten, less than one hundred. Too few for our scouts to count."

"Why so few?" Briggid asked. "Mages are a crucial part of war, and Valm is so readily prepared in every other way. It just seems strange."

"If I were to guess, then I'd say they're north with General Steelwind," Canas said. "Ferox is very cold, and mages can make fires and keep troops relatively comfortable."

"I think the better question is where our mages are," Marisa commented.

"I believe I can answer that," Ephraim said, drawing attention towards him. "Lord Pent Reglay, Duke of Etruria, was on his way, the last I had heard. In fact, we left our respective dukedoms at the same time, I believe. His dukedom is further away, so he will probably be a few more days."

"And he doesn't have ten thousand mounted units like you did," Canas supplied helpfully.

"Pent Reglay will ride in and come save the day, it's his style," Marisa said. "But with his mages, this fight should turn out rather even."

"Indeed. Let's move onto the next topic at hand, the Valmese Generals," Canas said. "I encountered Lady Brenya Cross, and I took her arm. Or part of it, at least."

"Hugh fought Lucia Silver," Canas continued. "He escaped after being rather trounced by her."

"I fought Camus Dorian," Ephraim said. "Neither of us wounded the other."

"And Sirius Dorian slaughtered an entire brigade by himself," Marisa said.

"Pity we couldn't take any of them down. That'll hurt us in the long run," Lloyd said. "And General Linus…?"

"He fought our raid party that never came back," Briggid said.

"And that actually brings us to the final tidbit," Canas flipped a couple pieces of paper. "We received a message from Linus. He said that if we don't return General Orson to them, they'll execute a member of the surviving raid party."

"When will they start killing?" Lloyd asked immediately.

"Linus didn't say, but he did make it clear that a Ylissean would die every day until we comply," Canas said.

"Me and Klein will go and stage a rescue mission," Briggid said immediately.

"What?" Marisa blurted, narrowing her eyes.

Lloyd nodded, "Daring, but can you do it?"

"We're War Archers," Briggid declared. "We can do it."

"You leave tomorrow," Lloyd said. "Scout the area, and report back to me. We can't afford to screw up now."

**『』**

"Looks like you're the unlucky one," chuckled the large Thracian man.

Wil said nothing as he was escorted by Linus and Trabant. The two large men made it clear that Wil would not be escaping whatever came next.

They walked on the bridge from Fort Obsepio to the nearest plateau. Wil felt every step he took like his feet were made of steel.

He knew what was coming.

When they got to the plateau itself, the conversation that followed only confirmed what he had thought.

"You going to do it, or me?" Trabant asked.

"You go ahead," Linus said quietly.

Trabant laughed, "Worried about getting your clothes bloody?"

"No," growled Linus.

"Then you do it. Show me you're a warrior worth my time," Trabant taunted.

Linus stepped next to Wil and commanded, "Kneel."

Wil did as he was told and fell to his knees. Linus unsheathed his large claymore and rested the tip on the ground.

"Your raid party, they were true warriors," Linus said. "For that, I will be honorable in your execution. Do you have anything to say before the end?"

"Don't ever lay down and wait to die," whispered Wil.

"What was that?" Linus said, leaning down closer to Wil.

The Ylissean flung his head into Linus'. The Valmese General teetered back, off balance.

Wil began to run towards the bridge that connected this plateau and the next. His foot touched the wood of the bridge and his confidence soared.

Then Trabant's lance pierced his heart.

"Brave move, kid. Brave, but idiotic," grunted Trabant as he pulled the lance from Wil, letting the man's body fall lifelessly to the ground.

**『』**

"Sorry, but I still find it eerie that there's a ghost following me around," Heather said, uncomfortably shifting in the saddle of the horse.

"Understandable," Glen nodded, while he rode behind her. How a ghost managed to do that, Heather didn't know. "But in a world of Mantles, I'm sure you've seen stranger things."

"True," Heather said. "My Mantle is nothing ordinary."

"Where exactly is it that you are going?" Glen asked.

"Ylisstol. My Queen ordered me to return after collecting the Prima. I think she intends for me to help her save the city," Heather explained. "I'm not even sure why I'm trusting you."

"Because I am a man of honor, like my brother. Even if I fought Ylisse in the war, I intend to serve you because you hold that sword," Glen said. "I swore vows when I took up this blade. And as long as I retain my sanity, I won't forget them."

"Charming," Heather muttered.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Glen said as he faded away.

Heather began to chuckle as she spoke to herself, "Am I really at the point where nothing surprises me anymore? I bet Emm will love that."

**『』**

The wolf lead the four of them to a small house near the edge of town. Despite it being shoved between two larger buildings, it wasn't forgotten and looked well kept.

The wolf glanced at them, and then bounded up to the door and rapped its paws against the wood.

The door opened immediately, with a short woman standing in the doorway with a small bird on her shoulder. "We have much to talk about," she said, gesturing them to follow her. "Let's get this conversation going. Volug and I have places to be after this."

"Is this that Seer you mentioned?" Matthew whispered to Leila.

"The correct term is Farseer!" shouted the woman from within her house.

"Seems to be," Leila shrugged. "Let's go."

The wolf waited until all four of them were in the house before following behind them. Once they were inside the lamp lit house, the wolf looked at the Farseer with a questioning gaze.

"Go ahead, Volug," she said with a soft smile.

A flash of light took the room, and in place of the wolf, stood a man.

Volug's lack of chest clothing likely made him a hit with the ladies, with his toned chest exposed for all to see. Faint tattoos on his arm could be seen when the light reflected just right, but they differed greatly from Leila's. All he wore were baggy white pants topped with a worn red waist cape. Around his neck was a string holding several wolf teeth.

"A Changeling," breathed Leila. "Not a common Mantle."

"Sit down, you four," the woman said. "My name is Micaiah, and I'm going to tell you how you'll save your sister, and the world."

Micaiah dressed simply. Just a purple dress with black leggings with some beige hiking boots. A blue scarf clung to her neck with silver hair parading over it. She wore long black gloves that extended to her mid-arm. A couple of Arulian metal hoops dangled from her arm that her bird enjoyed landing on.

"The world, did you say?" Sain asked. "Or did I hear you wrong?"

"No, you heard me correctly, Sain," Micaiah said as she sat down in the last free seat. Volug sat down beside her chair with his legs crossed.

"Never mind that, I want to know where my sister is," Matthew said.

Leila nodded, "Indeed. That is our goal, and we'd hoped you would help us."

"In Valm, there is a place called the Chasm. Your quest to save the world intersects with saving your sister, Matthew," Micaiah said. "You will understand when you get there."

"This Chasm, where is it in Valm, exactly?" Cormag asked.

"You'll find it on every map in existence. You cannot miss it, unless you're blind," the Farseer said. "But while that is your eventual destination, I cannot allow you to leave unless you agree on a detour."

"No, I'm not spending any unnecessary time doing something else," Matthew retorted.

Micaiah glared at him, "You  _will_  do this, or else you'll die. This is for your safety in your quest. Go to the capital of Ferox and compete in the games. You will find someone there who needs your help."

"Does this interest us in any other way?" Cormag asked.

"This person will be your path across the Dividing Sea. Warp Staves do not get you across that distance," Micaiah said.

"Why are you helping us?" Sain asked, quietly.

"Your actions, as well as the actions of several other scattered throughout the world, will determine the fate of the world. Like it or not, I'm rather invested in living. I want to remain alive, and using my Mantle to help you, will in turn help me," Micaiah explained. "Everything I say is the truth, trust me."

"I believe you," Cormag said. Sain nodded in agreement. They looked at their two companions.

"I'll go along with this, but I am not forced by this destiny. This is of my own free will," Leila said.

"Destiny is there, whether you accept it or not," Micaiah said, though she looked sad at the statement.

Matthew stood up, "You're wrong. My future is mine to decide. Not yours, or a god's. Now can you Warp us out of here?"

Micaiah nodded, "I can get you part of the way." She picked up an ornate staff that lay on the ground next to a wall. "Are you all ready?"

The four stood and locked eyes with Micaiah.

" _Commoveo,_ " she muttered. A circle of runes appeared at the feet of the four companions, and vanished along with them.

"They certainly don't like being told what to do," Volug grunted.

"Correct, Volug," Micaiah said. "I knew it would happen."

"We've been waiting for them for months. Now what?" Volug stood and stretched.

"We're going to need to get moving," Micaiah said, growing misty eyed. "There's someone who needs us to find him."

"Which chess piece are we looking for now?" Volug asked.

Micaiah blinked, bringing herself out of her trance for a moment, "The Traveler. He'll need help adjusting."

**『』**

In the capital city of Valm, Excelsum, there was a mighty castle. But the large castle served only a shell for the real symbol of power within its anatomy.

The Black Throne.

The throne had previously seen High King Ashnard's reign upon, when the man had conquered and united Valm.

But with Ashnard's death, that had left Pelleas, his son, to rule.

"Tell me again," Pelleas commanded in a annoyed tone. The High King Pelleas was surprisingly fit for a mage, though that could be attributed to his skill with a blade. A long white cape wrapped around his shoulders, marked by the seven pointed star of Valm. The High King wore blue to compliment the white cape. Artistic swirls spun along the tunic. Pelleas wore plain brown boots that had been built for deftness rather than style. The High King's blue hair met the long collar of the white cape.

In front of the High King's throne (Which he sat in, of course), stood Rennac, the High King's attendant. He was master of everything the High King needed done—that wasn't strictly honorable. Anything socially accepted was typically passed to Pelleas' bastard daughter.

Rennac was one of the best kept men Pelleas had ever known. His brown hair never seemed to have a hair out of place, with it in a style held by a hairband that the noble ladies seemed to adore. Pelleas' attendant wore a purple tailcoat that made it easy to conceal anything within. The only thing about Rennac that was less than formal were the boots he wore.

"Your grace, your forces at the Ruins of Animas have suffered another defeat," Rennac repeated, unfazed by his leader's displeasure. "But that was only because of the timely arrival of Lord Ephraim. Rest assured, your army still stands stronger than the Ylisseans."

"I wish that the attack on Ylisstol had gone better," lamented Pelleas. "Had we taken over with minimal bloodshed, perhaps the Ylisseans would be more compliant."

"You wanted to end all of this religious debate and squabble, your grace," Rennac said. "I doubt many of the Ylisseans, or anyone on the eastern continent, would be pleased with that."

"Fair enough, any other news?" Pelleas leaned forward.

"General Steelwind reports that the Longfort has again resisted an attack," Rennac said. "But he believes that he will force the Feroxi into submission before long."

"Good," smiled Pelleas. "Now, did you get that sword finished?"

"Yes I did!" Rennac grinned. "It took a lot of hunting, but I found a smith who could make it."

From within his tailcoat, Rennac procured a wrapped package (Pelleas had no idea how he hid it from sight). He handed it to his King.

Pelleas untied the rope that held the canvas together. When the white cloth fell away, Pelleas was indeed impressed.

"Made completely out of obsidian?" Pelleas asked, gazing at the black sword.

"If you look closely, your grace, you'll see that the edges are the finest silver that money can buy. But the obsidian you see so clearly is genuine. It'll conduct dark magic, just as you wanted," Rennac explained.

"Perfect," Pelleas whispered, gazing at his new blade.

The doors to the throne room burst open as a red armored man ran in. All of the Kingdoms of Valm had red as their color, followed by their individual color. Pelleas' was black, ergo the title of his throne.

This man's armor was red, and he wore black underneath. "Your grace!" he shouted, panicked.

Pelleas stood up and stepped down the three steps to the floor. The man dashed, trailing blood over the carpeted ground.

"Soldier, what's happened?" Pelleas asked sternly. "Answer me!"

"Sir Walhart, he's leading an insurrection," gasped the soldier as he fell to one knee in an effort to kneel.

"As we feared," Rennac commented. "Should you deal with them, or I?"

"Take this man out of here. See to it that he is looked after. He alone came to warn me," Pelleas said. "I will handle Walhart myself. But stay on standby in case something happens."

"As you wish, your grace," bowed Rennac.

The brown haired attendant guided the wounded soldier out of the throne room via a secret passage in the back of the room.

High King Pelleas stepped back up to his throne and waited, holding his new sword across his lap as he waited for his opponent to come to him.

It did not take long for Walhart to storm into the throne room. With six soldiers at his back, the giant red colossus strode in, the clank of his armor announcing him like trumpets.

"Your grace," he uttered, bowing his head slightly. "It seems we have a problem."

"Oh? Do tell," Pelleas said, not moving an inch.

Walhart rested his red and black axe on his shoulder. He belted out a harsh laugh that matched his cruel facial features, "As acting commander of Valm's army in Steelwind's stead, I believe we're taking the wrong approach."

"With what?" Pelleas' hand tightened on the hilt of the sword.

"Leadership. Now that you foolishly put me in charge of Daein's standing army here, I can finally pursue my goal and remove your foolish head," Walhart bellowed.

Pelleas stood up and slowly walked down the stairs, "You speak treason, commander."

"I followed your father, Ashnard, because we shared similar ideals. You want peace and are not willing to take the proper risks to subjugate the eastern continent. This, is where our ideals diverge," Walhart stepped forward several paces so only twenty feet separated him and the High King.

"Unfortunate you feel that way," Pelleas shrugged. "I thought this war would be right up your alley."

"My nephew, Jerme, knows what he's doing. Appoint him as commander of the Valmese armies, and I'll step down right now," the giant man declared.

"The psychopath?" Pelleas raised an eyebrow. "That's one of the worst ideas I've heard in a long time."

"So be it," Walhart grunted, swinging his axe into a ready position. "Men, cut this pretender down."

Pelleas brandished his new sword and lay his hand on the black stone. With several whispered words, the blade caught black fire. Only dark magic couldn't disintegrate obsidian, so the weapon was unharmed.

One of Walhart's men seemed more eager than the rest. He ran at the High King with a scream bursting from his lips.

Once the other five realized that they should be following the first man, the too, charged.

Pelleas smirked and snapped his fingers. Everything slowed down drastically, except for the man running at Pelleas, who hadn't seemed to notice.

With a lateral strike, the soldier began the battle. Pelleas met the attack with his sword blocking horizontally, and followed up with a kick aimed at the man less armored legs.

It connected, causing the soldier to stumble and lower his sword. Pelleas spun around and liberated the man's head from his shoulders.

With another snap from his fingers, the world sped up.

Walhart's eyes widened, "A Slider!" In front of Walhart, Pelleas and the commander's man had sped up to unparalleled speeds and clashed for half a moment, resulting in the death of the soldier.

"A bubble of compressed time," Pelleas chuckled, twirling his sword. "Think you can handle me  _and_ my Mantle?"

"Swarm him! He can't stop us all at once!" Walhart ordered.

Pelleas snapped his fingers, and all the soldier slowed again. Walking casually, Pelleas moved to the edge of the bubble where the soldiers moved at the speed of a snail.

Taking a deep breath, Pelleas snapped his fingers while driving his sword towards the closest soldier. The bubble collapsed, and Pelleas' sword pierced through the armor of the man.

Spinning with a swish of his cape, Pelleas swung his sword, the black fire cutting straight through the next man's armor.

With three soldiers left, the High King snapped his fingers as two men jumped at him. The third and Walhart were trapped outside of the bubble.

The High King raised a hand and shouted, " _Flux!"_

Black matter leapt from his hand and began to choke the man. The second soldier made the mistake of raising his shield to block Pelleas' attack. The obsidian sword devoured the shield easily, and Pelleas capitalized by jutting his sword upward into the man's neck.

Snapping his fingers, Pelleas took a moment to chuckle. Surely Walhart's soldiers were falling faster than eyeblinks, or at least breathing. At least, in his eyes.

The last soldier quivered, not knowing whether to attack or run.

Pelleas decided for him, conjuring an arrow of dark magic and flinging it through the man's eye.

"Walhart, it seems we're back on even ground," Pelleas smirked.

Walhart crouched into a ready stance, "Had I known you were a Slider, I would have prepared better."

"And that's why I keep a Smoker in my retinue, to screw over uppity men like yourself," Pelleas chuckled.

Roaring with the rage of a lion, Walhart swung his axe down in a vertical chop. Pelleas slid out of the way like a snake, and lanced his sword forward at Walhart's exposed side.

The commander was no peon like his men, and blocked the attack with the flat of his axe in the nick of time. Except he forgot one crucial fact.

Pelleas' sword could eat through metal.

The axe was severed, with half of it landing on the ground. Walhart actually stopped his massive body from moving and stared at the metal on the ground in shock.

Pelleas had no such qualms, and stabbed into Walhart's stomach with his blade.

The commander fell to the ground, screaming as the dark magic ate away his body. Pelleas ignored the screams and doused the flames on his sword.

"How's the sword?" Rennac asked, appearing out of the corner of Pelleas' eye.

"It served me well," Pelleas said. "But it seems that the edges of the sword were partially eaten away by my magic."

"Seems like you should only use it on certain occasions, your grace," Rennac said, walking up beside Pelleas.

"Indeed. I even thought of a name for it: the Devourer," Pelleas smirked. "Just look at Walhart's wound."

"What do you want me to do with him? The old bastard is still clinging to life," Rennac asked. The moans and cries of Walhart had lessened, until Rennac prodded him with his foot right where Pelleas had struck him.

"Let Ephidel take care of him," Pelleas suggested. "He's always in need of criminals for his Morphs."

"As you wish, your grace," Rennac bowed and exited as silently as he'd entered.


	13. Knifepoint Vengeance

**Chapter 13  
Knifepoint Vengeance**

**『』**

"You know what I could really use?" Cormag grumbled. "A sword. I wish I had thought to get one before she Warped us away."

"With luck we'll find a village soon," Leila said, wrapping her arms around her body. "Because it's rather chilly."

"Well, if you think about it, that Farseer sent us here knowing we wouldn't die. There's probably a settlement of some sort nearby. Or else why would she send us here?" Sain reasoned, though he was shivering harder than Leila.

"I wasn't aware there was anywhere this cold on Mira," Cormag mused, gesturing to the ground that was covered with a light snow. Grey clouds had invaded like a Valmese army and taken over the sky, dropping light snowflakes that occasionally stuck to the ground.

"We're in Ferox, that's the only logical place we could be," Matthew thought aloud. "South Ferox, probably."

"Ferox isn't this cold," Cormag disagreed. "I've been to Ferox before, and it's much warmer than this."

Sain chuckled, "I think things have changed in the last dozen centuries. Ferox has always been a snowy tundra, Plegia has always been a dense desert and Ylisse's been a fertile countryside."

"No…Plegia is a lush jungle, of that I am sure," Cormag said, confused.

"It's a desert," Leila said. "Nothing grows there, and it's drier than any place you can think of."

"Impossible," Cormag shook his head in disbelief.

"Wait, didn't Cormag say that he fought Ferox and Plegia? And now they're both worse off than he remembers them," Matthew reasoned. "Maybe something happened because of that?"

"Naga's vengeance?" Sain suggested.

"Could be," Cormag conceded. He looked around, taking in the vast field of snow. "It's hard to think  _this_ is Ferox though."

"How about the Longfort? Did that exist in your time?" Leila asked.

Cormag nodded, "It was under construction. It hadn't been finished as far as I know."

"You can see it there," Leila pointed. In the distance, a small grey line could be seen rising off the horizon.

"Damn," whispered Cormag. "That must be massive."

"There's a reason Ferox has never been conquered," Sain chuckled. "The Longfort practically cuts them off from the southern half of the continent."

"Good thing we're on this side of it," Matthew grinned. "Now let's get moving before we freeze our asses off."

**『』**

"What did he do?" Cath asked, fingering the knife in her hands.

Ephidel rolled his golden eyes, "Does it matter? He must die, and this is your test. Can you gut a defenseless man?"

Against the wall sat a man covered head to toe in red armor, so much so that Cath was doubtful in the man's ability to move.

The man groaned and righted his head's angle. Ephidel gazed at her with his dead expression and spoke, "His name was Walhart. But right now, all you need to do is stab him. Then I can send you on missions in confidence."

Cath stepped closer to the weakened giant. Bending down, she pressed the knife to his neck.

"Hurry up," commanded Ephidel.

The brown haired man Cath had come to call Matthew appeared in her mind. He seemed to be glaring at her, as if he didn't approve of her.

_This is who I am now,_  Cath reassured herself.

She dragged the knife along the man's neck, cutting thinly. Blood began to leak out, like juice from a fruit.

"Kill him. Stop dawdling," Ephidel whispered, his face over her shoulder.

Cath suppressed a shudder, and plunged the knife into Walhart's neck.

**『』**

Teetering on the cliff that overlooked an endless depth, Karel exhaled slowly. He tilted his feet back and lowered himself back onto the ground.

The wind blew his hair out of his eyes (For once). Karel was left an unobstructed view of the Chasm. Or rather, the thing within the Chasm.

It had always been there, or at least that's what Ephidel had told Karel. In the center, held up by thirteen chains, was a citadel that overlooked the bottomless pit of the Chasm.

The leader of the Morphs had informed Karel that a god was inside of the fortress. God or not, somewhere within those bastions and turrets was something. That much Karel was sure of.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its rays deflected off the metal of the fortress, blinding Karel. The swordsman in blue looked away.

" _Come here often?" said a sly voice as a woman in red stepped into view._

Karel spun on the spot, drawing his red katana.

An Anna emerged from the forested area behind him and smirked, "Come here often?"

"That's bold of you to come here," Karel accused, ignoring Anna's question.

Anna shrugged, "I'm a bit whimsical, I suppose. I am surprised you're here, standing guard."

"Someone has to stop your family from meddling with us," Karel frowned.

"Oh please. We both want the same thing, the destruction of whatever is in there," Anna pointed at the citadel. "We should work in tandem to do just that."

"Except immediately after that, our goals diverge," Karel said. "You're family serves Naga. We serve the people of Mira."

"Those seem like the same things to me," Anna said. "Naga wants the best for her people."

Karel snorted, "No, you just said it yourself there. We're  _hers_. It's like we're objects, playthings for a god. I for one, will not kneel to such a god."

"I suppose this is where we fight each other, right?" Anna rolled her eyes.

"I think you should be more careful," Karel warned. "No one has beaten a Timeseer when he is prepared."

"All I've got to do is force you into a Checkmate," Anna said, drawing a thin sword made of iron. "An inescapable situation. Seeing the future can't save you from a corner with no exits."

_Anna ducked to the left and stabbed her sword into Karel's torso._

The red katana met Anna's iron blade and stopped it in its tracks.

_Anna jumped backwards and vanished from sight._

"Ah, a Vanisher? Or maybe a Ghost?" Karel smirked just as Anna began to jump backward.

"Damn," Anna said as she disappeared from sight.

Karel inhaled, and then let his breath go. His body calmed, and he waited.

_Nothing._

The breeze lightly licked his cheek.

_Nothing._

A small pebble fell down an incline.

_Nothing._

Karel narrowed his eyes, "A Ghost Mantle, then."

_Anna appeared behind him, stabbing her sword down into his back._

Karel flipped his sword in his hand, and stabbed under his arm and behind him.

The red blade hit something solid, even though there was no one standing there. "The thing about Ghost Mantles," Karel began, "is that you're still there."

Anna flitted back into vision, a sword through her abdomen.

"Say hello to your god for me," Karel sneered, wrenching his blade out from the red haired woman. Anna stumbled backward, the life quickly leaving her eyes. Seconds later, she collapsed to the ground, her upper body hanging over the Chasm.

"Bye," Karel said as he kicked her body over the edge.

**『』**

"Good as new, your grace," Rennac said, handing the obsidian sword to the High King.

Pelleas accepted the sword with a nod, "Well done. Make sure you keep that smith in Daein so he can work on the Devourer when it needs fixing. I'll make it worth his while."

"As you wish," Rennac bowed to the throne. "Your grace, your daughter is waiting to see you. Shall I send her in?"

"Of course," Pelleas said. "Always let her in, she does not need to wait."

"Apologies, your grace," Rennac said. "I find myself wary as of late, ever since Walhart's attempt on your life."

"I'm too stubborn to die," Pelleas smirked. He stood from the Black Throne as Rennac went to let Pelleas' bastard in.

"Father! They stopped me at the doors, can you believe that?" Lara said, aghast. Lara took after her mother more than her father. Her long black hair didn't match Pelleas' blue curly hair. But her cunning was all from Pelleas—and Rennac's teaching. Princess Lara wore simplistic clothing, a sleeveless red dress that cut off as a skirt. Around her belt, an assortment of knifes clung to her. Of course, she would hide them when visiting nobles other than her father. The guards were used to it and politely ignored it.

"The guards are just wary from the assassination attempt," Pelleas chuckled. "Don't worry, I told Rennac to always let you in."

"Speaking of Rennac," Lara turned to the brown haired man and winked slyly. "There's a certain noble girl that came back with me from Frelia. She's  _quite_ eager to see you again."

"Fuck," breathed the High King's attendant. "Have a nice talk, you two. I seem to have my entire afternoon occupied already."

"Rennac, we all know you like L'Arachel," Lara grinned. "You should just marry the girl."

"One does not simply marry L'Arachel," muttered Rennac.

"What's this? The most dangerous man in my retinue is afraid of a mere woman?" Pelleas quirked an eyebrow.

Rennac glared at the High King, "Mere is not a word I would use to describe L'Arachel."

"Get going!" Lara ushered the tall man towards the door. "You don't want to keep her waiting!"

After a few more moments of grumbling from Rennac, he finally exited to find his woman that he may-or-may-not be in love with.

"Silence. He does like to complain about her," chuckled Pelleas. "Let's sit in the back room, Lara. Might as well have some privacy."

"I came home as soon as I heard," Lara said. "I can't believe Walhart acted while I was in Frelia. Well, I can believe it, but I should have been here."

Pelleas walked through the small arch that led into the small chamber. A stone table occupied the center of the room with several chairs hiding under its wide berth.

"You're my daughter Lara. Bastard or not, it's my job to protect you, not the other way around," frowned Pelleas, taking a seat.

Lara waved a hand dismissively, "You're holding seven kingdoms together by yourself. Someone has to watch your back." She took the seat across from her father.

"Fine," Pelleas said reluctantly, ending the line of discussion. "Talk to me about Frelia. Where do they stand as of now?"

"King Hayden sends his regards and hopes you are not injured from Walhart's attempt," Lara said, tapping her foot against the ground. "He also sent L'Arachel along as someone to help support us, if possible."

"What is his niece going to do for us?" Pelleas asked, puzzled.

"Look good, I suppose," Lara shrugged. "The public loves her, and her being here is a sign of Frelia's support in the Black Throne."

"Fair point," Pelleas murmured. "Rennac and she will get married eventually, I hope Hayden realizes that."

"I think he wants it, probably as a source to spy on us," Lara said. "King Hayden is still a King of Valm at the end of the day."

"Figures. Did he say he'll be there for the meeting next month?"

Lara nodded, "That makes all seven, including Joshua. I'm surprised he agreed to actually attend."

"Joshua is a special man," Pelleas remarked with a wry grin. "And dependable, when he isn't drinking and gambling."

"At least he doesn't flirt with me like Virion does," Lara said.

"Virion flirts with you?" Pelleas raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to have to do something about that."

"You have bigger things to worry about from Virion than him flirting with me," Lara rolled her eyes.

Pelleas sighed, "True enough. I wish he were more like Zephiel or Hector. They're easier to like and dislike."

"You better not have been turning that dislike towards me," boomed a loud voice as an armored man walked in.

"Hector! What the hell are you doing here?" Pelleas demanded, staring at the doorway with surprise.

The big man stepped into the room with a jovial smile. From Hector's back cascaded a long red cape. Blue armor, Ostia's colors, cloaked Hector leaving only his blue shirt visible between the large gaps. The King of Ostia never went anywhere without his armor, and especially so ever since his brother had passed. His face was one many court ladies fawned over—or they did before he had married. Hector's blue hair receded backward, but had been groomed into style. At his chin, a blue beard had begun to grow in.

"What, I can't come see my best friend after I hear of someone trying to kill him?" Hector laughed. Pelleas rose from his seat and embraced his lifelong friend.

"Many people have tried to kill me," Pelleas said, separating from his friend.

"True, and that probably includes me. We've drank enough to drown a kingdom," Hector laughed.

Pelleas chuckled, "You have. I always tried to moderate myself."

"I think 'tried' is the keyword in that statement," Hector said. He took a seat at the end of the table and Pelleas resumed his previous position. "My good influence usually won out."

"But in all seriousness, is it alright for you to be here right now?" Pelleas asked.

"Florina is watching over Ostia right now. She and my advisors, that is," Hector explained. "We've got that meeting soon, and it couldn't hurt for me to be here."

"I've asked my Morphs to look into Uther's death," Pelleas said. "If someone was behind it, we will find them."

"That's a relief to hear," Hector admitted. "Especially since I've had my hands full ever since my coronation. My brother made running a kingdom seem easier than it is."

"What, King Hector's having trouble managing some peasants?" Lara taunted.

"Quiet you," Hector joked. "I'd like to see you run a realm."

"Thankfully, I'm a bastard and probably won't have to do that," Lara leaned back in her chair. "Zephiel would never stand for a bastard on the Black Throne."

"He'd have to deal with it. You  _are_ my heir," Pelleas affirmed. "But I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"Unless we decide to drink a bit too much again," Hector grinned. "Think we should go down to the city and toss a few back?"

"Waking up in a brothel isn't exactly the kind of reputation I need right now," Pelleas rolled his eyes.

Hector snorted, "How's Lara supposed to get a sibling if not?"

"Ouch. Father, you just going to let him get you with that?" Lara grinned.

Pelleas chuckled, "I will this time. I gave Hector here plenty of shit for marrying Florina. He could have crushed her if he embraced her too hard."

Hector flung his hands up, "I won't deny it."

_Knock knock knock._

Three heads turned to the stone archway that Hector had come through. In the passageway, Ephidel bowed slightly, "Your grace, Lord Hector, and Lady Lara. It is an honor to address you all at once."

"What is it?" Pelleas asked curiously.

"I merely wanted to discuss how to handle the late King Uther's assassination investigation with King Hector, if that isn't too bold of me," Ephidel asked.

"Ask away," Hector said, his voice slightly more subdued.

**『』**

"Enjoy this while it lasts," Jerme said. "This cell will be the best accommodations you'll have before I send you down to the Hole."

Emmeryn said nothing. She didn't even tilt her head up to look at Jerme. The once Queen sat at the back of the cell and stared blankly at the floor of the cell within the Warden's building.

"I don't think I explained what the Hole was, did I?" Jerme grinned. "Picture a hole in the ground, around fifteen feet deep. The sides are the smoothest stone, so you can't climb out of it. It's very wide as well, and could probably fit twenty people in it with little difficulty."

Emmeryn said nothing.

"Inside that hole is a smaller one in the center of the floor. Not even I know what's at the bottom of it. Prisoners are free to jump down it and end their lives whenever they want."

Emmeryn said nothing.

"We barely feed them, the prisoners. When it gets a long stretch between times we've fed them, the prisoners will eat each other. I've seen three men rip apart another person and eat him."

Emmeryn said nothing.

"You'll be lucky though, being a woman. Sometimes, women can make some deals with the men in there to get a cut of their food. You may not ever have to kill another human, but you'll still have to eat. I wonder, what will you do?"

Emmeryn said nothing.

"If you keep looking dead like that, then you'll be the first to die in the Hole," Jerme said. "Perhaps getting ready for the long fight ahead of you is something you should do."

"Warden, sir?" a new voice said. Jerme turned to the guard who approached him. "There's some sort of disturbance on the south side," said the guard.

"I'll be back, Lady  _Heather_ ," Jerme promised, performing a complete court bow.

Emmeryn heard the Warden's footsteps grow farther away, and that was when she let out the breath she was holding.

_Naga, I have prayed every night for an escape. I thought that Maris and Gonzales were sent by you to help me. I thought you had given a way out to me in Maris' plan, but I was wrong._

_I spent my life living your teachings, despite Heather's insistence. I held out, saying you were better than Heather said, that you were a god worthy of worship._

_Now, I, a woman of your chosen bloodline, am going to be sentenced to an eventual death in the form of a cruel prison. I hope this is what you wanted from me._

_Because_ fuck  _you. I'm done praying._

The Dreamseer's eyes began to close, thankful that she hadn't had a dream since before the attack on Ylisstol. Death was in her future, and that the timeline had changed.

"At least the end is near," Emmeryn whispered as her eyes closed completely.

As fate would have it, she dreamed.

_She saw herself with a green haired man in the desert. He was dressed like a nomad of the desert. His mouth moved, but Emmeryn couldn't hear any of his words._

_She looked down at her hand, and saw a sword in its grasp. The man swung his sword at her viciously. Without any training in the matter, Emmeryn tried to block, but the green haired man sent her to the ground with his strike._

"Emmeryn!"

_Emmeryn's mind began to race. She'd never seen this part of her future before. Had her destiny changed?_

"My Queen!"

_She had thought she'd go north upon her escape, and to meet up with the five that were off to Valm. But could this future mean something else? Was she going to escape?_

_Was this even a dream, or was she already dead?_

"Emmeryn!" whispered the voice again, growing more frantic. The fair haired woman cracked open an eye to see a lavender haired man crouched in front of her.

Legault.

"Legault…?" she whispered, wondering if she was still hallucinating.

"Stay with me, we don't have much time," he said hurriedly as he began to work on the chains at her feet.

_Was this…Naga's doing?_

_No,_ the rational side of her mind, the side that had developed during her time at the camp, said.  _This is not Naga's doing. If she had cared, or existed, you would have escaped a long time ago._

_Fuck Naga. Legault is here to save you because he cares, more than the woman you've worshipped._

"Legault…you have served me loyally," Emmeryn croaked quietly.

"I am one of your Hands," he said. "This is my duty. I will not let you die. Not ever."

Legault helped Emmeryn stand up. The moonlight streaming through the barred window lit up Legault's face, making his scars look even more menacing.

"I set up a distraction earlier today. With luck, they're still dealing with it," Legault said as he helped his liege out of the cell. "It took me longer to get into here, even with the help of someone inside."

"Who?" Emmeryn spoke through her dry throat.

"Him," Legault said, pointing at the large man standing in the Warden's main room.

"I want to apolo—" Garret began.

"Kill him," Emmeryn ordered, her mouth turning drier than it already was.

Garret's eyes bulged, but just as he began to open his mouth wider to say something, Legault's knife flashed across his throat. The dark skinned man hit the floor with a  _thud_.

"Let's go," Emmeryn said, not looking at the body.

"As you command," Legault said, cleaning off the knife.

It seemed their otherwise unhindered exit would not last for long. As Legault and Emmeryn neared the door, the Warden himself stepped through and blocked their path, arms folded.

"I should have thought something like this would happen," Jerme growled. "Freeing two hundred prisoners and letting them try to escape on their own? That's something that serves specifically for a distraction." Jerme drew a knife, "I'm not letting you escape."

Legault reacted the quickest of the three of them. He Vanished and reappeared behind Jerme, holding a knife to his throat and disarming him. Jerme's knife clattered to the floor.

"Don't kill him," Emmeryn said immediately.

"Milady?" the Hand asked, confused.

Emmeryn walked up to Jerme and picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground. She rested it against Jerme's neck. Then, as if reconsidering, she moved it so it almost touched his eyeball.

"This is for whipping me in a street," Emmeryn said, no emotion in her voice. She lurched her hand forward, stabbing the knife an inch into Jerme's eye.

The Warden screamed, his voice reaching an octave Emmeryn didn't know men could hit. It pierced her eardrums, making Emmeryn feel as if she'd never hear again. The colossal sound shot out of the windows faster than arrows could be shot.

"This is for Gonzales," Emmeryn continued, moving the bloody knife towards Jerme's other eye. In a similar fashion, she stabbed into the man's other eye.

The Warden's voice climbed even higher and louder. It escalated to where Emmeryn actively felt her head pound, her mind trying to escape her skull's prison in a vain effort to cease the screaming.

"And this," Emmeryn's voice darkened further than it ever had, "is for Maris!" With a war cry, she thrust the knife into Jerme's groin.

The scream was music to Emmeryn's ears. Capping the previous cries, this wasn't a scream of pure pain. This scream spoke loud and clearly; it was one of horror. The tables had turned.

"Come, Legault. Let's leave this wretched place," Emmeryn said throwing the knife to the floor as Jerme's screams overtook the entire prison camp.

**『』**

Lady Florina, wife of Hector and Queen of Ostia, fidgeted restlessly in Castle Ostia's throne room. She sat in the less regal of the two thrones, and waited patiently. Or at least, as patiently as she could.

When informed a Morph was visiting, not many could stay calm.

The Queen wore a simple white dress that betrayed nothing of her statues. He lavender hair was in a braid down her back.

A fully armored soldier knelt in front of Florina. His name was Oswin, and he was the only man (Aside from her husband) Florina could keep her composure with and not squeak in fear.

Men weren't her strong suit, at least when it came to talking with them.

Oswin had red armor, completed with a blue shield in his hand that was as tall as he was. His lack of a helmet exposed his hardened face and brown hair. In his deep voice that rumbled like waves hitting the shore, he spoke, "Milady, the Morph is here."

"A man or a woman?" Florina asked softly.

"I can't say, they were wearing a cowl," Oswin said, bowing his head lower. "I apologize, milady."

"It's alright. Send them in, please," Florina smiled. Oswin nodded, stood, and walked to the door to let their visitor in.

A figure clad in a hooded black cloak approached her. It reminded Florina of the single time she'd met the handler of the Morphs, Ephidel.

The Morph bowed, but said nothing. With green gloved hands, the Morph flipped the hood back to expose the face of a young woman with orange hair.

She almost looked friendly, if not for the gold, dead eyes.

"I am Cath," she said, her tone monotonous. Florina felt a chill that she'd felt when talking to Ephidel several years ago. The Morph continued, "I'm here to find out what happened to King Uther, and to apprehend the assassin if possible."

"Then I welcome you, Cath," Florina said, successfully keeping the tremor out of her voice.

**『』**

"We won't be able to save everyone," Briggid muttered as they crossed a plateau in the dark of night.

"I know," Klein replied. "But I want to save as many as we can."

"Saving Dart is a must," Briggid said. "We have to free him. The others would be good to free, but they're a second priority."

"I understand," Klein said, irked.

"Calm down, you can't shoot straight if you're all hot and bothered," Briggid said, raising an eyebrow.

"You sound like my sister," grumbled Klein.

"A compliment?" Briggid smirked the question.

Klein chuckled, "Perhaps."

They traveled quietly across the plateau, their silence a comfortable gap in the conversation.

**『』**

"Do you think it's odd, the Fiend activity of late?" Lloyd mused as he looked over reports from various patrols in Ylisse's countryside.

"Should I? I've been fighting a war, not fighting Fiends. I have no idea what they've been like," Marisa replied, annoyed.

Ignoring her dismissal, Lloyd continued, "We normally have scattered Fiend attacks. Three or four a week. Perhaps a dozen Bonewalkers, or a pack of Mauthedogs. Sometimes we'll even see Wights and Mogalls."

"Your point?" Marisa gave him a sidelong glance.

"My point is, where are they? I have one report of an attack, and it was one Bonewalker that found its way to a farm," Lloyd ran a hand through his brown hair.

"What do you think is going on?" Marisa asked, her curiosity growing.

Lloyd shrugged, "I have no idea. But something is happening. The Fiends are either gathering, or they've gone somewhere."

"Have we gotten similar reports from across Ylisse?" Marisa said.

Lloyd nodded, "I'm going to send out a few more patrols. When Duke Pent arrives tomorrow, I'll ask him if he's seen any Fiends."

"Good idea," Marisa stood. "I'm going to go check on Orson."

"Any reason?"

"I've got a feeling. And I can't shake it."

**『』**

"How the hell are you not cold?" Matthew said, aghast at Cormag's lack of a cloak of any kind. They were inside a village's inn, but the two bed room they had was quite cold never the less.

"I'm a Flamewalker," Cormag shrugged from his spot on the floor. "I don't get cold easily."

"Lucky you," Sain grumbled on a bed, wrapping the brown cloak he'd purchased around him tighter.

"You said it," Matthew agreed, as he and Leila were both wrapped in his red cloak while sitting on their respective bed.

Cormag rolled his eyes, "I'm lucky because I can keep myself warm? How about you're lucky for being able to disappear at will or see in the dark?"

"My Mantle is only useful for keeping watch and finding my way to the bathroom at night," Leila grumbled.

Sain burst out laughing, "At least you have a Mantle. Unless my Mantle is my way I have with the ladies."

"I have yet to see you prove that," Matthew mentioned.

"Perhaps we can right now!" Sain grinned. "Leila! Do I not have a particular way with the ladies?"

"I won't deny you're handsome," Leila chuckled. "But I wouldn't describe you as having a way with the ladies."

"The lady is not without fangs!" Sain wailed. "Her compliment, it bites into me with a lovely tone, but leaves a wound!"

"Sain, seems like she might be the wrong woman to ask," Cormag simply said as he exchanged a look with the man in question. Both their eyes went to Matthew and Leile.

"What?" the two of them said at once.

"I was hinting to you that perhaps you should take notes, if you do say you'll find Sain a proper woman for him," Cormag deftly covered up the true meaning of the look he and Sain had shared.

"I've got all my notes up here," Matthew tapped his forehead. "Anything else you want me to commit to memory?"

"I like the ladies who are good with weapons. Of course, all ladies are absolutely stunning in my eyes," Sain supplied. "I'm sure you knew that, but got it memorized?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Matthew chuckled.

"On another note, we need to decide who's sleeping where?" Leila brought up.

Cormag spoke up, "I'll take the floor. I've been sleeping on rocks and dirt for an entire war. The feather beds you three are used to are too soft for me."

"Matthew can share my bed," Leila shrugged.

Silence…

"Not like that!" she sputtered out quickly, her face turning slightly red.

Sain and Cormag were laughing. "You should have seen your face!" Sain exclaimed. "And Matthew's!"

"Matthew, was that a hopeful look I saw?" grinned Cormag. "Are you disappointed now?"

"I swear I'd stab you now if we didn't run the risk of getting kicked out into the cold," Matthew growled.

"Coward," chuckled Leila, glad that the attention was off her.

"I'll take the other bed, in that case," Sain said. "After all, I wouldn't want to part these two lovers from whatever they've got planned."

"Just be sure to stay on the quiet side. I don't want to wake anyone in the neighboring rooms," Cormag said.

"Next sparring match, let's destroy these two, alright?" Matthew turned to Leila.

"You said it," a maniacal glint in her eyes.

**『』**

"This sword is kind of underwhelming. I mean, its counterpart can see the future. And all the Prima can do is give me a conversation with a dead man?" Heather groaned.

"On the contrary," Glen shook his head from across the campfire. "Think of my presence here as a nice surprise. What the Prima can really do, is see into others' pasts."

"Give it to me in words that I can understand. I may be a noble, but I didn't spend much time listening to my teachers," Heather groaned.

Glen cleared his throat, "The Avvenire is a sword that can make anyone a competent fighter. Seeing opponents' next moves is quite the boon in battle.

"But the Prima isn't a weapon to make an inept man fight adeptly. It is the type of weapon for a person who is already an expert with swords.

"When you point the Prima at another man and will it to read them, you can see every battle that person has fought in. A swordmaster could see how that opponent has fought in the past and learn from it, thus making them quite ready to thrash said opponent."

"So instead of seeing the future, I can see people's pasts?" Heather clarified. "But only in battle?"

"I never had use for it outside of battle," Glen shrugged. "It might work, it might not. But in short, you're correct."

"That's not so bad, then," Heather said, satisfied. "I thought I only got a dusty old fossil out of the deal."

"Dusty old…I wish I could hit you," Glen grunted, perturbed.

**『** **Eleven Years Ago** **』**

Matthew, now the age of nine, sat in the red chair while Anna talked to the client. Despite her young age, she managed a guild, albeit a small one.

There were a couple other members, but the only one who actively worked with Anna was her husband Jake. He was a lean man with spikey blue hair, wearing a blue tunic a few shades darker than his hair.

Cath was upstairs, like she usually was during client meetings. Anna had said she wasn't old enough yet.

Though Matthew was only there because having a little kid unnerved some clients, Jake had said. And some clients were not the type to mess with.

When the visitor left, Jake turned to Matthew and asked, "Want to go do some training?"

Matthew's grin spoke more words than the kid could say in a breath, "Yeah!"

"Don't hurt each other out there! I want the men in my life staying in one piece!" Anna shouted to them as she went to go check on Cath.

**『』**

Matthew woke with a start, his hand flying to his head in shock.

"Why that memory…?" Matthew muttered. These flashbacks…were they trying to tell him something?

The burning feeling on the back of Matthew's hand finally registered in his mind. He glanced at it, not even needing to. It was the mark, that strange symbol.

_It's felt like that after the past two of these dreams as well._

_Does this mean something?_

"Matthew?" Leila asked, waking up beside him in the bed.

It was at that moment Matthew noticed something. Leila's tattooed arm was draped across his stomach. She was  _leaning into_ him.

Awkward.

They both looked at her arm, and Leila pulled it away without saying anything.

Matthew, the quick thinker he was, immediately launched into a topic of conversation, "Leila, I don't think you've ever told me what those tattoos mean."

Leila's tattoos were always something that caught Matthew's eye. The lines and shapes wove in and out of each other and extended down to her elbow. The ink had probably used to be a certain color, but now it had faded slightly into dull red-like black.

"No, I don't think I have," Leila said, her relief evident to Matthew. They knew each other well enough to notice even subtle emotions in their body language and voice.

"From where I come from," Leila began, "tattoos tell a story. My village, which was in southern Ylisse, would tattoo kids' arms when they reached age thirteen. The design would tell the story of that person's life. Slowly, after great achievements, the artists would add more and more to your arms as you grew. They'd start with your dominant arm and then move to the other in time.

"Since I got my Mantle at age thirteen, like every person whose Mantle surfaces, my design was influenced by that," Leila said. She took the sleeve of her purple shirt and pulled it up to her shoulder, "See this circular shape that looks a little like an eye?"

Matthew thought it looked more like a wagon wheel, but he could see the eye in it. "This means that I'm a Nightwatch. And this," she pointed lower to some lines and shapes that to Matthew looked like gibberish. "This signifies that I helped fight off a Mogall attack the following year." She continued on, speaking of some smaller events that had happened. As her life progressed, she got closer and closer to just past her elbow where the tattoos stopped.

"What do all these lines mean?" Matthew asked, reaching up and lightly touching the lines that interconnected between the events.

"They mean that I'm still alive. All these events are connected, because my life is one continuous path that hasn't stopped yet. The elders always said this tradition was so that we wouldn't forget the things that happened in our lives."

"How come everything is before you turned sixteen?" Matthew wondered aloud.

Leila sighed, "I haven't been back to my village in six years. I wouldn't trust anyone except the elders to mark up my arms."

"Sometime, we should go there. After this whole mess with Valm is done, that is," Matthew suggested.

"I'd like that," Leila smiled.

**『』**

Heather's horse walked through the open gates into Ylisstol with calm apprehension on her face. The capital of Ylisse was still in ruins, some places more than others. But the walls around the city never had looked better. Ballistae lined the tops of the walls, with guards patrolling everywhere.

"Hold!" shouted a Valmese guard. He and five of his friends stood in front of her horse. "State your business!"

"I'm just coming to check out how the city is doing. I'd heard it'd been attacked, and I was too curious to stay away," Heather said.

"Where are you from?" asked the guard.

"A village just south of here. You wouldn't know it," Heather said. Her hand clenched, getting ready to kill the six men and women with her Mantle. Just in case, that is.

"Awfully expensive clothes for a village girl," one of the women in the retinue pipped up.

Heather frowned, but just as she were about to raise her hand and quell their questions with shadows, an arrow streaked down and struck the first guard in the neck.

Five more followed with a speed Heather had only seen Klein capable of.

A woman jumped down from one of the roofs. She glanced at Heather and said, "Come on. More will be here in a minute."

Heather followed the woman through several side streets before they stopped behind a couple of buildings.

"It's been a while, Heather," smirked the woman. "We've been looking for you ever since the attack."

"Igrene?" Heather spoke, surprised.

Heather's cousin wasn't one for subtlety. Igrene's red sleeveless tunic was slightly obscured with a brown cloak that reached down to her thighs. Her shade of yellow was off from the primary Lowells, and her skin was much darker in tone, giving her the appearance of having been out in the sun for several days straight. It was a common joke between her and Heather that the only thing they shared in common was their large breasts (More Heather's joke rather than Igrene's). Hands with gloves that reach almost to her shoulder rested on her belt. Said belt held a quiver filled to the brim with arrows. Igrene wore leggings that came up and stopped just below where her red dress turned more into a traditional woman's battle tunic.

"Correct. Your father has been having me look for you ever since you vanished," Igrene said.

Heather's happiness soured slightly at the thought of her father, "I was on a mission for the Queen. What does he want me for?"

"For the revolution. We're going to take the crown back from Lord Solidor and put Prince Chrom on the throne," Igrene said quietly.

**『』**

Orson watched through his almost closed eyes as his guard walked away from his cell. Reaching into his boot, he grabbed a thin needle. In his other boot was its mate.

They'd work well enough as lockpicks.

Before Orson got to work on the door, he pulled down his shirt to see his chest. The black glyph was still burned into his skin. That Valmese mage, Etzel, had assured Orson that his blood would attain toxic qualities.

All he had to do was let a drop of blood get into someone's water goblet. And then they'd die.

Orson set to work on the lock.


	14. Time Will Tell

**Chapter 14  
Time Will Tell**

**『』**

"It is times like these that being a Nightwatch is rather unimpressive," Leila groaned.

"We've all got our uses," Cormag lightly said as his Mantle melted all the snow within the forested area. "Ours just differ."

Matthew nodded, "We trust you the most when you're on watch. And we trust Cormag to make sure our campsite is snow free. If anyone's useless, it's Sain."

"I resent that!"

The four of them set up their camp quickly. Thankfully, it wasn't snowing like some of the past nights. And the trees provided some cover from the wind, something the group had been wanting for several days.

"I suppose this'll be as warm as it'll get?" Sain said, pulling his brown cloak around his shoulders tighter.

"Indeed," Cormag said. He wore no cloak, choosing to spend what gold he had on a sword at the village. It was a simple blade of steel, nothing fancy about it.

"I really hate that Mantle of yours. Why couldn't I get something like that?" Sain groaned.

"If it makes you feel better, it takes a lot of work to maintain heat for this long. And since it's so cold, I've got to work even harder," Cormag explained.

A twig snapped.

The two ceased talking and glanced around.

"Fiends?" Matthew whispered.

**『』**

"Another day, another victim," Trabant chuckled as he stood outside Dart's cell.

The pirate didn't even look to see who it was they were taking. He hadn't had time to learn all of the raid party's names.

And those he had were all dead, aside from Ike.

"You need to have hope," Ike said, seeing Dart's frown. Trabant left, escorting a young woman to meet the same fate that Wil had.

"Why? Who's going to save us?" Dart grunted.

Ike glanced at the ceiling, "Naga, perhaps?"

"Heh, maybe. Though I don't know what she'd do for a damned man like myself," Dart shrugged.

"So you'll just give up?" Ike said, his tone turning to disbelief.

"Hell no," Dart laughed darkly. "A good cap'n knows when fighting the storm is useless. Sometimes, you just gotta ride out the waves. But when the storm lessens, that's when you fight. When they take me out of here, I'll give them a thrashing they'll remember."

**『』**

"Your spy you let loose hasn't seemed to have acted yet," Brenya observed. She folded her arms, only to immediately unfold them once she was reminded of her crippled appendage.

"Give Orson time. He owes his life to me. A man of honor would not so easily give up a task," Linus said lightly. "He betrayed his cause to fulfill a debt of honor. He'll accomplish this."

Brenya cast a look out over the Ruins of Animas, "He better."

"He  _will_  act. And soon," Linus said.

"Quite confident, aren't you?" Brenya raised an eyebrow.

"Ten years ago, back when I was working with my brother in Ylisse, I saved General Orson's life. Fiends attacked, and I killed a Wight that nearly cut him down. He swore his life to me," Linus finished.

"He shouldn't have," Brenya observed. "After all, here you are fighting against his country."

"If circumstances had allowed it, I would have continued to fight for Ylisse. But I prefer to pick the winning side, and Ylisse doesn't have much of a chance at the moment," Linus said. "I dread the day when I'll cross blades with my brother, knowing that one of us will kill the other."

"You will face him eventually. That is the will of fate, and Naga," Brenya said.

Linus chuckled, "Seems like that's how stories go, eh? The two brothers eventually have to fight, otherwise it wouldn't make a good tale."

"Unfortunately, fate has a cruel sense of humor," Brenya said gesturing with her mangled arm. "But we can fight it. That's what makes us human."

"Fighting fate…that's an idea I like," Linus smirked. "Canas did that to you, right?"

"He did, why do you ask?"

"I think you were lucky to walk away alive, in that case," the General said. "Canas is a very powerful mage. Be careful when you fight him again."

"What makes you think I'll fight him again?" Brenya asked, curiosity taking hold of her voice.

"Fate's cruel sense of humor," Linus said.

**『』**

"This is where he died?" Cath asked as she stood by the bed.

"Yes," Florina said, her voice subdued. "He passed in his sleep. It was painless, the mages said."

Cath took time to glance around the room. It was a room for a King, one that had probably been used by every King and Queen of Ostia. But while it was clearly a King's room, it was relatively modest and on the smaller side.

"He had some illness, right?" Cath clarified.

"Yes, he'd had it for over a year," Florina said. "That's what we thought the cause of death was for a time. But now, we're not sure. And that's why you're here."

"Indeed," Cath trailed off. Nothing was on the bed. No trace of any sign that anyone had even slept in it.

The Morph stood up and faced the Queen of Ostia, "I need you to make a list of everyone Lord Uther spoke to the week leading up to the day he died. I also want to meet with every servant in the castle, primarily the ones who personally attended Uther."

"Will that be all?" Florina asked.

"I need to see his body as well," Cath said.

**『』**

"I can see someone," Leila muttered, staring ahead through the trees. Matthew followed her line of sight, but whoever she saw was still too far away.

Cormag drew his sword from his belt, resisting the urge to draw it with his right hand. Spinning it in his workable hand, he took point. His hand caught fire, and served as a torch.

Sain followed up behind him, his lance held at a low, albeit deadly angle. Leila and Matthew drew their respective weapons, rapier and Avvenire.

"You don't know how long it's taken me to find you out here in the cold," a quiet voice snaked out of the trees.

"Show yourself, coward," Cormag called out in a level tone.

"If you insist," the man said, and left the cover of the trees.

"I've come for the Avvenire," the man continued. "If you hand it over now, no one needs to die. I'll leave peacefully."

"You're out of your mind if you think we'll just give such a weapon up," Matthew growled. He gripped the blade tighter.

"Then know that I, Navarre, will be the one to pry it from your cold, dead hands," said the man in red, a confident glare appearing on his face.

**『』**

"Are we off to smite some Fiends?" L'Arachel grinned as she stalked Rennac.

"No."

"Surely we must be doing some sort of evil thwarting?" L'Arachel persisted.

"Not like you're thinking."

"Then what  _are_ we doing?" L'Arachel stopped in the castle hallways, her hands on her hips.

Rennac looked at the woman in front of him with the same question in his mind as always: how was Lady L'Arachel related to King Hayden? The two were opposites, in personality and appearance. L'Arachel had yellow hair that contained a greenish tint to it. Her clothes were even stranger, a princess of Valm, wearing white? All Valmese royalty either wore red or their country's color. Except for Pelleas, Rennac reasoned. He did his own thing.

" _I_ was going to talk with one of my assets," Rennac said. "But now that you've tagged along, I'm not so sure that fits with my plans."

"Rennaaaaaaac! Must you say such mean things?" L'Arachel whimpered.

"Mean? This isn't me being mean, you'll know when I'm being—" Rennac was cut off by a rather odd occurrence. So odd that his calculating mind just stopped, like it had stepped in something sticky.

L'Arachel was kissing him.

Odd.

"Now come!" L'Arachel sprang back and beckoned. "You can meet with your friend later, because we must go and spread the goodwill that is Lady L'Arachel!" She pranced away.

"…Dammit," Rennac muttered before following her.

**『』**

"We should be safe now," Legault said as he jumped off the horse as the sun began to set. "We'll ditch the horse here. Our own feet will serve us better in the desert than his hooves."

Emmeryn nodded mutely, and then spoke up for the first time in hours, "Where did you plan to take us?"

"Back to Ylisstol," Legault replied. "Prince Chrom and Faval Lowell were creating the beginnings of a rebellion last time I was there. They should have advanced to a greater stage by now."

"Good," Emmeryn commented.

"Pardon my bluntness, my Queen," Legault spoke. "But you killed a man a few hours ago. Are you alright?"

Emmeryn did not respond for a long time. When Legault was just about to give up and continue walking, she finally uttered, "I'm scared, Legault."

"Why, milady?"

"When I killed Jerme, I wasn't disgusted. I wasn't…anything. If I felt a single emotion, it was joy. Does this make me a bad person?" Emmeryn whispered.

"It might, your highness," Legault replied in kind. "But on the flip side, it might not. That's something you'll need to figure out for yourself."

"I don't even know where to begin," Emmeryn plead, looking for some kind of answer from her Hand.

Legault shook his head, "This isn't a problem I can fix. What I can do is tell you about two people's first kills.

"When I killed a man, I was useless for a week. I threw up. It was like a fucking story, where the good character is shown as still a good person even though they killed a man. The real reason I threw up was because the man's intestines fell out of his belly when I cut him open. I told everyone it was because I was disgusted with myself for such a crime.

"I felt bad about it, sure. But it wasn't a horrible thing. I killed a man, a simple action," Legault said. "Though the Hand that trained me showed me the family after they found out their loved one wasn't coming home. Showed me the price of killing and my skills. Taught me a lesson I wasn't going to forget."

"And that other person?" prompted Emmeryn.

"The Hand I personally trained was Heather. After her first kill, I asked her, 'How do you feel?'

"She looked at me like it was a normal day and said, 'She was a threat to Emm, right? Then I don't feel any remorse, because what I did was right.'"

"Heather said that?" Emmeryn gasped, surprised.

"Heather's infatuation with you is her unwavering goal in life. She will protect you as long as you live. And that goal told her that the 'why' she killed the woman was more important than anything else. So, my Queen, did your motives mean more than the action?"

Emmeryn fell silent, her thoughts preventing any sort of communication. Legault seemed to understand, and he merely motioned her to keep walking. Falling in line, Emmeryn mindlessly let Legault lead her.

"Dear Naga…" whispered Emmeryn, in fear. Her hands conformed into a triangular shape, using all of her fingers as she prepared to pray.

_No,_ her mind said.  _Don't you remember a little time ago where you said 'Fuck Naga?'_

_But…I've always prayed when I was scared._

_And you used to be weak,_ sneered the voice in her head.  _This is your chance to turn things around. Become one who fights rather than flees._

_I'm no fighter! I couldn't even save the few friends I had while in prison!_

_And it is regrettable,_ the now subdued voice murmured.  _You can prevent it from ever happening again._

_At what cost!? Killing people? I'm no killer._

_Yes, you are. You enjoyed murdering Jerme in cold blood,_ the voice replied.

_He killed my friends._

_And now they can rest in peace because of the actions you took,_ crowed her mind.  _It is an easy problem to fix. Become a person who can fight—and defend those you care about._

_I…I can't. I'm not like that._

_You_ weren't  _like that. But times have changed, and you have killed,_ her mind said.

_I can't kill another person, no matter what they did. I should never have turned my back on Naga._

_Oh? And what if someone killed Heather? What would you do?_ her mind chuckled.  _Would you run away again?_

_I…_

_You can't even protect the woman you love! Do you just expect her to defend you for all your life, or will you return the favor?_ roared her mind.  _Are you a thing to be ogled behind a glass case, or a woman to be reckoned with?_

"Legault, can a woman change?" she asked, making the Hand turn his head towards her briefly.

"Sometimes. Sometimes you can just wake up one day and be something else. Other times it might take you years, and still you can't change because you don't want to.

"All that matters, my Queen," Legault paused midstride and turned to her, "is that you care enough to become a different person."

"Is it worth it?"

"If you can't change yourself, how do you expect to change anything else?" Legault shrugged, and continued walking.

"Emmeryn the Queen died back at that camp," Emmeryn proclaimed, brushing her fair hair that was dirtied by the months of imprisonment away from her forehead. The mark that signified her birthright stood against her once pale skin, showing up despite the tan she'd acquired from the ruthless Plegian sun.

She held out a hand to Legault and spoke a single word with the most authority she'd ever held, "Dagger."

The lavender haired man curiously handed his liege the blade. The woman took the metal and touched a thumb to it, rubbing the smooth metal. The last lingering breath of sunlight in the day flickered off that metal.

"I decide my fate now," Emmeryn spoke, and ran the knife across the brand on her forehead, cutting a thick line through the mark of Naga.

**『** **Fourteen Years Ago** **』**

"It seems the mark has surfaced," spoke the priest, looking at Emmeryn's forehead with scrutiny. "A nice spot. It'll be a constant reminder of her right to rule."

"Indeed," smiled King Cornelius. "Emmeryn, have you anything to say? This is a monumental day!"

Thirteen year old Emmeryn looked into the mirror at the mark of Naga at her forehead. "Um…" she opened her mouth to speak, "does it do anything?"

"It is your birthright," the priest said eagerly. "It is the sign from above that you a member of a family chosen by Naga."

"But is that all?"

King Cornelius laughed, "Children! Such impatient souls. We were like this once, weren't we, Moulder?"

The mustached man nodded, "I would assume so, though I've long forgotten such a time."

"Ha!" King Cornelius laughed. Her father did so love to laugh. "There is a secret to the mark, a secret that only our family and the priests of Naga know. Can I trust you with it?"

"Of course, father," Emmeryn immediately said.

"At the beginning of our line," Cornelius began, "King Marth made a pact with Naga. So long as his family—our family—served as Naga's chosen family, every man or woman with Her mark would be blessed with a Mantle."

"You have a Mantle?" Emmeryn said, surprised.

"I'm a Seeker, nothing special," chuckled Cornelius. "But as long as this mark is unmarred, we possess Mantles."

"Unmarred?" Emmeryn clarified.

"Yes. A few generations back, one of our ancestors got his mark cut up. He lost the Mantle he had. It was gone without a trace," Cornelius said, laughter for once not outpouring from his mouth.

"What your father is trying to say," Moulder said, "is don't get your mark cut up. It is a symbol of Her faith in your bloodline. Destroying that would be…unfortunate."

"Just be careful," Cornelius said, flashing the priest a look. Emmeryn nodded, and her father smiled, "Just what I want to hear! Now, let's go see if we can try and figure out what that Mantle of yours is!"

**『』**

Navarre didn't draw his sword. He wouldn't need it yet for this fight.

The cold made his breath show as he exhaled, the large cloud that had come from his lungs blew away in the wind.

"Favorable winds," he smirked, letting his four opponents get into the formation they wanted. "Perfect."

The man in red reached to his belt and removed three of the eight coins that lined his belt. They were a harder alloy than normal coins, and therefore deadlier.

The man in the blue armor made the first move. He swung the blade horizontally, while his other arm lay against his body motionless.

_A cripple,_ sneered Navarre.  _This just gets easier and easier._

Using the hand that held nothing, Navarre pushed the armored man back. The blade never touched the crimson blademaster.

Brandishing the three coins, Navarre sent one into the bark of a tree with the might of his powers as a Coinshot. The other two found their homes similarly in trees.

Navarre lightly pushed against one of the three trees and sent himself into the middle of the trees. The four travelers scattered, holding their weapons up in defense.

Calmly, Navarre dropped a coin into the snow where he stood. Now he had four areas of influence in the battle.

Only then, did Navarre draw his sword.

The knight in green tried the same as the blue had done. His lance had more luck than the other's sword. The tip would have cut Navarre open had he not pushed it aside.

"Coinshot. Be aware of the metal you carry," the purple clad one called out.

Navarre brought his free hand behind him and pushed off the coin in the tree. He sailed through the air as he jumped. Swinging his sword through the air like a knife through butter, his blade clashed with the woman's rapier.

The red swordsman threw his hand behind him and pushed away the two in armor. With his other hand, while holding his sword, Navarre pushed against the rapier.

The woman resisted. She pushed back against his Mantle's powers.

Navarre growled. He threw both hands forward and pushed against the coin in the tree behind the woman. Skating across the ground, he ran into the Vanisher who'd appeared behind him when he thought Navarre wasn't looking.

The Avvenire's wielder recovered quicker than Navarre anticipated, and swung the sword. Raising a hand to deflect it, the crimson blademaster pushed.

The blade's tip cut through Navarre's clothes, deep enough that blood shot immediately began to soak into his garments.

"Your blade, is it not metal?" Navarre gasped.

"Maybe, maybe not," the Vanisher said, though he looked as surprised as Navarre.

The rapier stabbed him through the shoulder, and withdrew in seconds. Navarre made his decision in less than a moment, and pushed off the ground where he'd planted a coin.

Flying skyward, Navarre felt blood flee from his shoulder. Thankfully it hadn't been his sword arm's shoulder, otherwise defeat would have been certain.

"Idiot, you're not free of me yet!" shouted the Vanisher from right in front of him.

Dozens of feet in the sky, Navarre held his injured arm's hand down to hold his position as he confronted the man in front of him.

The Vanisher disappeared and reappeared in moments, continuously keeping his height to fight Navarre. Their blades rang out above the trees as Navarre defended, and the flittering man with the red cloak's sword bashed with Navarre's.

Taking a risk, Navarre swung his sword, hoping to catch his opponent off guard with a strike below the armpit. The Avvenire met his steel with speed and stopped the attempt in its tracks. Lady Luck smiled on Navarre at that moment, for the Vanisher hit his limiter. He stopped flittering and began to fall.

But that didn't stop him from grabbing ahold of Navarre's injured shoulder to drag him along.

"You forgot one thing, wielder of the Avvenire!" shouted Navarre. "There are metal buckles on your cloak!"

With all his might, the injured man pushed off the nearest buckle. He and his enemy separated and flew apart.

Navarre held the push for several seconds until hundreds of feet lay between them. Ripping a coin from his belt, Navvare toss it to the ground and lightly pushed on it until his crash was slow enough for him to not die.

He lay on the ground, still. His breath was ragged, and he felt more soundly beaten than he ever had in his life.

"Heh," he grinned. "Would have been nice for Karel to tell me about the Vanisher. Some brother.

"But I can work around that."

**『』**

"Sorry it took me so long," Rennac apologized as he sat down across from the woman. "The…noblewoman who is in my charge decided to take me out for a day. It proved to be…distracting."

"That's not at all like you," she chuckled. Leen's hair was an unkempt mess. Her green tresses weren't much of the spy's concern, since men just ran their hands through them constantly. A single strip of cloth wrapped around her chest, holding her breasts up and leaving her shoulders naked. A chain around her waist held up the garment that covered the front of her lower body and back, but left the sides bare. She sat like a queen, her physique exposed by her lack of covering.

He shoulder really have words about proper attire with her.

"No, but attraction makes fools out of us all," Rennac murmured. Realizing what he said, he quickly spoke, "But you must not tell anyone I said that."

His Mantle served him well, as infrequently as he used it. Leen nodded, agreeing to the Silvertongue's remark.

"So why have you called me here? I take it something requires my services directly," Leen gathered.

Rennac leaned back, "The Counsel of Kings meets very soon. And that means Excelsum will become a city of spies, killers and nobility for a time. Have you seen any soldiers bearing other banners, or spies as you've spent time in the city?"

"I don't have much time between my job and carrying out your orders to patrol streets," Leen said nonchalantly as she picked an imaginary piece of lint off her shoulder. "That being said…"

Rennac stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Leen had a flair for the dramatic, but that was why she was so good at her job—in and out of the bed.

"Soldiers from Ostia are here, of course," Leen ticked off on her fingers. "King Hayden has soldiers here, as does King Alvis of Granbell. Eltshan of Agustria has arrived as of last night. King Joshua is a few days away. Hayden, Alvis and Zephiel will be here within a fortnight."

"I will need you at the High King's side for this Counsel," Rennac said. "I believe someone is going to try something, and I, King Hector and Lady Lara might not be enough to stop them."

"I serve you, and the Black Throne," Leen said. "You can count on me, as always."

**『』**

Ike blinked as boots scraped the floor. He brought his head up, weary from his inability to sleep.

"Got a couple more fools to fill some cells," taunted Trabant. "Some highborns, at that!"

This made not only Ike look up, but Dart and probably every prisoner who heard Trabant's words as well.

"Generals of the Ylissean Army," Trabant continued, escorting two yellow haired archers.

Klein and Briggid hung their heads in defeat as they entered the cell Trabant brought them to.

**『』**

"I stopped at this oasis on the way here," Legault remarked. "A lucky spot of fortune, I might add. Things might've turned out differently had I not stumbled upon water when I did."

"Were you out of water?" Emmeryn asked, reaching into the small basin of water for the water she'd craved for months.

"Indeed," Legault nodded. He sat down and leaned against a tropical tree that had grown like its brothers around the water.

"It is a blessed place," murmured a voice. "I use it whenever I make incursions to the desert."

Legault bolted upward, immediately more awake in the night air. Two knives were in his hands as Emmeryn stood up from her crouched position.

"There," Emmeryn said, pointing across the water at a man perched cross legged on a rock. The moonlight outlined his silhouette.

"Speak your name. Are you friend or foe?" Legault called over the water than shined with moonlight.

He tilted his head up to look at them, "You may call me Stefan, Warden of the Desert."

**『』**

"We've had to hide away," Igrene said, navigating the back alleys without hesitation. "With Prince Chrom as our beacon, we can't afford for Lord Solidor's men to find us."

"Lord Solidor?" asked Heather, unfamiliar with the name.

"Lord Zealot Solidor," Igrene explained. "Lord over Ylisstol, and Ylisse. He's the one who stands in our way."

"Which King of Valm did he serve before coming here?" Heather asked, taking a place behind Igrene to let citizens walk on the other side of the narrow alley.

"Hayden's, I think," Igrene said after a moment's thought. "You know I never paid any attention to Faval's politic lessons."

"You're lucky that he's your uncle, and not your father," Heather replied. "Whatever you got was easier than what I had."

"You should have taken up archery, it might have made him more complacent," Igrene remarked.

"That time has passed," Heather shrugged. "I've made my decisions, and I will work with father even if I don't like it."

The two continued on for several more minutes before Heather finally registered something Igrene said earlier. "Prince Chrom is your beacon?" the Hand repeated, confused.

"With Queen Emmeryn having disappeared, what choice have we?" Heather's cousin said. "We can't rally behind a woman who isn't with us. Maybe we could if we knew where she was, but we don't. And that's an unpredictable thing to bet on."

Heather grabbed her cousin's shoulder and swung her around so she was pressed to the wall of the alley. "What happened to Emm?" Heather spoke, her voice light and deadly.

" _Queen_ Emmeryn disappeared the night of the attack," Igrene said through grit teeth. "No one has seen her for months."

"Who was she last with?" Heather asked, not relenting her hold on Igrene.

"Mantled General Marisa and Lord General Lloyd," Igrene said. "Both of which are now at the front, and have no Queen with them."

"I'm wasting time in this city. I need to go find her," Heather said, letting go of the woman. She turned to walk back the way she'd come from.

"That would be redundant," Igrene called out, her voice a carrying whisper. "Legault already went after her. If he can't find her, you won't be able to."

Heather stopped walking and growled. Knowing the logic in Igrene's words, the Hand reluctantly turned around. "Fine," she spat out. "Take me to Prince Chrom."

"The rumors are true, aren't they?" Igrene raised an eyebrow. "You and the Queen are having trysts, aren't you? Or something more?"

"Doesn't concern you," Heather muttered.

Igrene nodded, and continued on the route they'd been traveling. Neither woman spoke.

**『』**

Orson ducked into a crook of a building as soldiers passed by. Night had gathered, and Orson had to move fast. The Ylisseans could discover his disappearance at any time.

_Am I already thinking like I'm no longer one of them?_ Orson thought with wonder.  _Well…I suppose I'm not anymore._

Orson saw his chance and darted as fast as his old body could run. He ducked behind another building, letting a patrol pass.

"There you are," he murmured, gazing at the General's Quarters. The smaller building stood stark against the larger buildings. It wasn't meant for storage or housing soldiers, it was meant for planning.

Orson kept his head down as he walked the distance to the building. In his right hand, he rolled the two needles against his fingers.

But it would turn out he didn't need them. The door opened without any work on his part. Ducking inside, he began what he'd set out to do.

No one was inside the immediate room, which contained the large table with maps that he'd become very familiar with as a General.

And on the table was a glass goblet full of wine.

Orson chuckled, his last task in this life was almost over. Taking one of the needles, he speared his finger.

The single drop of blood took an eternity to fall from his finger. It splashed with a monumentally quiet crash.

And the wine was even red. How convenient.

The door behind Orson began to open. His luck would only get him so far as he dove into a crevasse between a bookshelf and a wall.

Time would tell.

**『』**

"Here we are," Igrene said, gesturing to the door of a building. It seemed to have been spared the worst of the Valmese attack.

"Thanks," Heather said, walking past Igrene and opening the door.

And it was a bakery.

"We meet upstairs," Igrene whispered. "They've agreed to let us meet on their upper floor as long as in the event we're captured, they have no part of it."

Heather ascended the stairs that were near the door she'd walked in.

"Look who decided to finally show up," spoke a voice Heather was very familiar with. "It took you a long time, daughter."

Faval dressed simply, for a noble. A dull blue tailcoat that hid the majority of Faval—physically and metaphorically. His yellow hair matched Heather and her brothers' hair perfectly.

"Father," greeted Heather. Behind her, Igrene stepped aside and stood in the corner of the room.

Faval sat at one of the heads of the table. On his right, was another face the Hand was familiar with, an older knight named Greil.

Greil was a giant of a man who actually looked like he could wield the greataxe behind him. The large man's muscles were obscured behind gloves and shoulder armor. A long yellow cape was held up by said shoulder armor. Short brown hair that had hints of grey grew helter-skelter on Greil's head.

"I'm glad you are finally here, milady," he bowed his head without rising.

Across from Greil was a face Heather recognized from noble gatherings in her youth, but couldn't place a name with.

"I don't believe we've met," said the man, standing to his feet slowly. Heather could tell some sort of sickness had stricken him, for the bow he made was restrained. "My name is Eliwood, Duke of Pherae." The Duke wore a blue nobleman's tunic, wrapped in a blue cloak-like cape. Wrinkles marred his face, showing his age.

_A_ Duke  _is bowing to me, the daughter of a Baron,_ Heather stopped herself from gasping.  _What has my father been up to these last few years? I should have paid more attention._

Faval Lowell smiled at Eliwood's actions. Heather was the only one to see it for anything other than a father's joy at seeing his daughter, false or not.

The last man, the one at the other end of the table, stood up with a smile. "It has been too long, Heather," Prince Chrom said.

"Hello, Chrom," grinned the Hand, giving the blue haired man a hug.

Chrom's hair was surprisingly ruffled for a royal. His blue hair covered his eyes slightly, to which he would push out of the way every so often. The Prince's garments were blue, the same as his hair. Draped down from his back and nobleman's tunic was a blue cape. Chrom was quite tall, and he towered over every person in the room with the exception of Greil.

"I'm glad you've come," Chrom said as he pulled apart. "We'll need your help. Myself and some old men in a room won't be enough."

"You've only got these three and my cousin?" Heather asked, waving a hand at the three aging men at the table.

"Everyone else is currently working on affairs within the city," Chrom explained. "The four of us make up the leadership of our revolution."

"Where's Lissa?" Heather asked in a quieter tone.

"One of the back rooms," Chrom said in an equally quiet voice. "She'd love it if you visited her."

Heather nodded and ventured to the only other door in the room. She didn't turn when her father said, "Heather, where are you going?"

Closing the door, Heather breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to deal with her father today.

**『』**

"You sent the Shepherds where?" Marisa asked, pushing open the door that led into the General's Quarters.

"Took investigate the Fiend activity," Lloyd said. "But more importantly, what was it you wanted to speak about?"

"Orson. He's escaped," Marisa growled, leaning on the table. She glanced to her right and saw a goblet of wine.

Lloyd's expression turned angry, "How."

"Can't say, only that his cell door was open and he isn't there," Marisa shrugged. "I've put the soldiers on high alert. If he's still here, we'll find him." She grabbed the goblet and ran one of her nails across the rim.

"Dammit," Lloyd muttered. "We need to question him further. He cannot be allowed to escape."

"Tell me about it," Marisa raised the glass closer to her face. "He told Valm all our secrets and we don't know any of theirs. Rather unfair, if you ask me."

"I'm going to go check in with whoever is on duty tonight," Lloyd turned around. "I expect you to join me."

"Fine," Marisa said, taking a mouthful of the wine.


	15. Leap of Faith

**Chapter 15**  
Leap of Faith  


**『』**

"Wait up, I'll just go along with you now," Marisa said, setting the goblet back onto the table.

Lloyd nodded and held the door open for her. The Mantled General walked away from the table, but the sheath of her flamberge knocked one of the wooden legs.

The glass goblet fell to the ground below. It struck the hard surface and shattered into hundreds of pieces of glass. With the red wine as a backdrop, it looked like stars in a red sky.

That sizzled with steam.

Both of the Generals' stared at the sight, unblinking. For several long moments, time stopped in the room as everyone processed their thoughts.

"Fuck, I just drank that," Marisa muttered. The longcoat wearing General felt her legs give out. She didn't even know she was falling until her head crashed beside the remnants of the glass.

Faintly, she heard a man that was not Lloyd curse. As blood from her head leaked out of cuts from the glass, Marisa heard the familiar voice that belonged to Lloyd.

Her eye lids felt the heaviest they ever had. But she couldn't close them, she had to fight. It didn't take a genius to figure out that poison was the cause. That made it even more important that she didn't—

Marisa's eyes closed.

**『』**

Ferus, the capital of Ferox, was unlike where Matthew had grown up. Instead of orderly placed houses and shops, every building was crammed wherever it could go. The streets were crowded to the point of impassability. As the city stretched inward, the streets got wider and the buildings richer.

"Rather different from anything we've seen, huh?" Matthew said to Leila.

The red haired woman nodded, "Ylisstol is much different from here. It's sad that so many people suffer just because of the climate."

Each building had seen better days. Some barely had roofs, relying on strips of fabric to keep the snow from falling in. But as Matthew and the other three walked further, visible changes could be seen by even a simpleton. Children played in the streets. Buildings looked like they could stand without worry. Men and women dressed richer.

The Vanisher realized that the  _entire_  outer edge of the city was the slums. With Ferox being the unforgiving harsh tundra it was, Feroxi clung to cities, causing them to grow outward and out of control like the very capital of the country.

"Is Plegia like this too?" Cormag asked. The four of them tried their best to stay as a group as dozens of civilians passed by, and through, them.

"No," Sain answered, surprising the other three. "Plegia has nomads that travel the desert, never sitting in one place too long. No city in Plegia has the wealth or structure to feed a vast number of people."

"Doesn't sound like a stable country," Cormag observed.

"Why do you think the Valmese conquered them first? Easy pickings," Sain shrugged. "They relied on mercenaries to bring in gold which could purchase Ylissean crops."

"Odd thing for a soldier to know," Matthew remarked, casting a glance at Sain.

"Ah, but did you forget?" Sain grinned. "I am Sain! Defender of women, and knight of the realm! I am a worldly man!"

"Enough, look up ahead. We're coming up on that place the Farseer told us about," Leila interrupted.

Everything in Ferus centered around a single location: the arena. The arena of Ferus was what made the city the capital it was. The closer a citizen lived to the arena, the more respected they became. Despite that, no one's houses or shops occupied space directly next to the arena. It was an unspoken social rule to not obstruct the arena.

It was the very way of life for the Feroxi. And for others as well…

**『』**

Their roars never ceased.

On and on and on the crowd would scream. The new fighters found that sleep was a luxury that was seldom seen. But they learned. They always did.

The woman had her eyes closed as she lay on the ground beside her bed. As a woman, resting atop the bed was poor decision since it brought her right next to the bars of the cell. Sometimes a man, or men, in the adjacent cells would get grabby.

Her eyes were closed, but she did not sleep. Not even her long years as a fighter could dim the screams and jeers of the people of Ferus.

"Hey, girlie," whispered the man in the cell next to hers. He brought his hands to the square openings in the grid and spoke, "What's yer name?"

The woman groaned. She'd been waiting for that cell to fill the last few days, with the slim hope that maybe, just maybe, another woman would find her way there. One who wouldn't be so much of a…man.

"I haven't been asked my name in years," the woman said. "To most, I'm just Arulian filth. A wretched bitch."

"Name, girlie. Give a man a name," he slurred.

"Mia," said the woman. "Why do you care?"

"Come closer, luv," the prisoner begged. "Can you give a man something happy in his last day of life?"

Mia shook her head, her eyes still unopened, "Find another woman to molest. Not interested."

Such was the life of a female fighter in the Ferus arena. It had been worse before Mia had managed to get something to cover her chest.

It had been so cold then. Feroxi winds would blow through the cells and give her the shivers like she'd never felt before.

"I wish cold was the most of my problems," Mia muttered to herself.

"What was that, girlie?"

"Fuck off, and if I have to tell you again, I'll break those grabby things you call hands," growled Mia, flicking her eyes open to stare at the man. The casual ease that the threatened the man cause the lecherous prisoner to jump back, unsure whether she was serious.

Mia almost wanted him to try again, just so she could find out if she was serious too.

The pommel of a sword wrapped on the door of the grid cage. Mia stood up automatically, recognizing it as the signal that it was time to fight.

"Arulian, time to go," said the guard. She stepped out through the door he opened for her. Walking obediently, there was no need for the guard. Mia couldn't escape. It hadn't worked in the past nine years, and it wouldn't work today.

"You've got yourself a tougher fight here today," the guard said. Mia eyed his furs jealously. Even if cold was the least of her worries, it still would be nice to be warm. But the green uniformed man continued without acknowledging the gaze he no doubt saw, "It's a Mantle fight. You're up against a...what's that one that's the opposite of a Coinshot?"

"A Lurcher," Mia supplied.

"Right!" the guard exclaimed. "You're up against a Lurcher. The crowd is going crazy, and Count Novera is here himself!"

"He's always here," Mia said. "He's a Nihil. He's the reason I can't escape."

"Oh, right," the guard chuckled. "Anyway, here's your sword."

Mia accepted the standard iron sword. She stood in front of the closed doors that would lead into the arena that she'd had as her home for nine years of her life.

At least the fights took her mind off that pitiful fact.

**『』**

"How could anyone enjoy this?" shouted Sain above the crowd. They weren't crushed between spectators like most civilians were (Sain and Cormag's armor helped with that). But the violent assault of cheering hit their ears like a tsunami as they sat in the arena waiting for the next fight to start.

"That's Feroxi for you!" Cormag shouted in return. Matthew and Leila sat between them, letting their armored friends give off a don't-bother-us feel.

"We're supposed to find someone that'll accompany us now?" Matthew said, his voice only reaching Leila.

"An Arulian, presumably," Leila mused, "since this person is supposed to get us across the sea."

The stands grew quiet, causing the four to look at the nobles' seats. The announcer stood at the front of the boxed area and loudly proclaimed, "Men and women of Ferox, today is a special day!"

His voice reached every corner of the arena. Some sort of spell had to be fueling the range of his voice, or perhaps he was Mantled?

"Count Nolan Novera, who this very arena is overseen by," the orator continued, "has prepared a fight between two Mantled for your enjoyment!"

The crowd screamed in excitement. They fell quiet when Count Novera held up a hand from his elegant seat higher in the nobles' corner.

"Without any delay, allow me to introduce our fighters! In the left corner, we have a Lasher! The Arulian!" cried the announcer.

One of the many great doors opened and a figure walked out. The woman emerging wasn't wearing a shirt, despite the cold. She had a long strip of cloth wound around her chest that bound her breasts back so as to not hinder her in battle. The woman wore brown leggings as well as boots that were of a similar color. Other than that, the woman with long purple hair wore nothing.

"And in the right," crowed the announcer, "we have a Lurcher! The Iron Wall!"

The crowd erupted, cheering on the obvious favorite. An excessively armored man walked out of doors opposite where the Arulian had walked out.

Matthew leaned forward, and his hand brushed against the Avvenire. It was fortunate it did, for an image appeared in his mind.

It was the woman on the arena floor. She was dressed differently, but it was her.

_Damn that Farseer and her 'destiny,'_ he thought, annoyed. The Vanisher turned to Leila, leaning close to her and speaking, "That's the one. That woman is who the Farseer sent us for."

"Let's see what she's made of," Leila nodded towards the battle that was about to occur.

**『』**

_Lurchers aren't as dangerous as their counterparts,_ Homer's voice spoke from her memories, harkening back to the childhood she had in Arulia.  _Armored ones can be a pain, because a skilled armored Lurcher can avoid being hit indefinitely. But you can use your Mantle against their armor._

_A weakness can always be turned to a strength, and vice versa._

The announcer's words fell mute on her ears. Only the armored man emerging had her attention.

Mia stepped onto the cold stone floor of the arena. It was circular, obviously. Four stone pillars rose from the ground, evenly spaced out near the edge of the circular wall. Sparse snowflakes hit the ground around her, melting almost immediately after touching down.

Her opponent was a man she recognized as Gilliam, a fighter by choice. Some made careers out of fighting in the arena, while others owed debts or were criminals.

Like her.

Mia spun the sword in her hand, getting a feel for the blade's weight. Even after all these years, she still yearned for the blade she'd been bestowed when she won her Arulian longcoat.

The pathetic standard issue iron sword felt like an insult after all of the glory she once had.

"Begin!" shouted the announcer.

"Finally," Mia muttered, strutting forward. Gilliam wouldn't come to her, so she would take the fight to him.

The Arulian flexed her fingers, preparing for the Lashing that was to come.

The crowd lulled into a quieter furor as they eagerly waited for Mia to cross the stone floor and meet Gilliam in battle.

The titan in green armor bent his legs and angled his lance towards the ground at a deadly arc. He too, waited for her to approach.

When only ten feet stood between them, Mia stopped walking. The crowd slowly began to pick up when they realized the fight was about to begin.

"I suppose it was inevitable for us to fight each other," Mia said, falling into a lower stance.

"Indeed," Gilliam rumbled. "But we must fight our hardest. May the best Mantled win, Arulian."

Mia didn't reply. Her sword did the talking for her.

The iron sword was moving before she was even aware she'd swung it. It was a simple strike to test out the Lurcher. What was he capable of?

The blade had been aiming for Gilliam's neck, but it hit the especially thick gauntlet on his left arm instead. Gilliam hadn't moved, yet her sword had hit a far more protected part of his body.

Damn Lurchers.

Gilliam thrust his lance forward, giving only enough warning for Mia to dance out of the way. The Iron Wall's lance shot back into his hand, ready to defend against another attack.

"Pulling on the lance's point to bring your weapon back to you faster," Mia observed. "Smart."

Gilliam gave no reply. He stoutly waited for her next move.

Mia jumped at the armored man, swinging her sword as fast as she could. Every strike connected to Gilliam's body, albeit hitting the thick gauntlet instead.

The crowd shouted angrily. They came to see two Mantled fight, not Mia struggle against a Lurcher's power.

Mia lashed herself to the wall behind Gilliam. Taken hold by gravity, Mia fell towards the wall.

The crowd gasped. The Arulian defied logic and stood on the arena wall.

The woman looked up from where she now stood at Gilliam, who turned around to face her. Grinning, Mia quickly lashed herself to the nearest of the four pillars. As she fell, the woman broke the lashing and lashed herself to Gilliam's body.

Soaring towards the green armored man, Mia swung her sword several times. Gilliam managed to pull her attacks to hit heavily armored parts, but her final strike slashed the tethers of his breastplate. Mia tore the lashing and felt gravity return to normal as she slid across the stone.

The crowd roared, pleased that the fighting picked up.

Mia looked up, and saw Gilliam  _running_ at her. With the amount of armor her was wearing, such a feat was impossible.

But clearly, it was not.

Mia held the iron sword up and waited for the battering ram to hit. His legs moved oddly, going up and down inconsistently.

_Idiot! He's pulling up on his greaves!_ Mia berated herself. Gilliam neared and threw his lance at her.

Caught unprepared, Mia blindly brought her sword up to deflect the lance. The sharp  _clang_ of metal allowed her to breathe again, something she hadn't realized she was holding.

The lance clattered away. Gilliam extended his hand and pulled it back to him.

"That's just not fair," grumbled Mia.

Gilliam laughed, the muffled sound making itself heard outside of his helmet, "You're a Lasher. Quite the one to talk."

Mia jumped at him, meeting his lance in a struggle of power. The two Mantled's weapons fought for the upper hand, lance against sword.

But Mia wouldn't be so easily beaten by the stronger man. She threw down lash after lash on the spot she stood on. Within moments, Mia was unmovable.

Gilliam tried to force her off her feet, but it felt like he was trying to push over a wall. Mia's upper body strength was strong enough to hold the lance at bay completely with the help of her lashings.

The Arulian  _forced_ the Iron Wall off of his feet.

Gilliam fell onto his back, his weight cracking the stone floor. Mia chuckled, and lashed herself to the sky.

Mia fell up.

She was upright, but she fell upwards. Were there something solid, she'd break her neck on it. But she didn't fall too far, or else Count Novera would activate his Mantle and then she'd break her legs.

Mia broke the lashing to the sky, and lashed herself to Gilliam. With renewed force, gravity pulled her down back to the arena floor.

With only feet before Mia would touch the ground, she brought the sword so it pointed at Gilliam. Then she broke the lashing.

The effect on her was instantaneous. She immediately felt her descent slow to a far less dangerous pace.

But the sword that stabbed into Gilliam's heart was as lethal as ever.

The crowd quieted. For the first time in Mia's time as a fighter, the arena was dead silent.

Then the roar of approval cascaded over Mia's shoulders. The thrill of battle left her, and the cold of the wind hit the Arulian with a vengeance.

She tossed the now broken sword aside. Guards came to escort Mia back into the cells. The familiar lull of Count Novera's Mantle hung over her, muting the power of the Lasher.

**『』**

"No trace of poison…" Cath murmured, running her delicate hands over Uther's skin. No holes or wounds could be found that would give indication of poison.

"Could you please hurry up, perhaps?" Lady Florina asked timidly. "Hector wouldn't be fond of you examining the body of his departed brother."

"I think Hector would be fond of me finding out who killed his brother," Cath replied neutrally. The Morph beckoned Florina over to her side. The Queen was given the task of holding Uther's body upright so Cath could check his back.

"I've got a question," Cath said, breaking the silence that had overtaken them. "Lord Uther's been dead for about a month or so now. How is his body this well preserved?"

"The mages created a spell that restores the body's degrading tissue," Florina said. "It heals what decays, or at least that's how it was explained to me."

"Dammit!" Cath swore, angered. Then her face grew stoic again. Anger was an emotion. She had just  _felt_ something.

"What?" Florina asked.

Cath blinked, mentally noting to think about what had just happened later. "That means that any wound created would have healed by now."

"Oh," Florina said, coming to the same conclusion that Cath had reached.

"Although," Cath squinted as she looked at the back of Uther's neck, "it seems like luck is on our side."

"What do you mean?"

Cath grabbed a thin needle and pulled it out of Uther's neck, "Looks like our poisoner didn't clean up after themselves."

"Milady?" Florina's guard Oswin spoke from the doorway. "I have all the servants ready to be questioned."

"Very good. Have you seen enough here?" Florina asked Cath.

Cath nodded, "Let's go questioning."

**『』**

Heather found which room Lissa was in easily. Frederick gave it away since he was never far from her side.

Frederick was Lissa's butler, and protector. He was dressed in a black and white tailcoat, the sign of a master servant. They were a class of servants that swore vows of dedication for as long as they were needed. Lissa couldn't have had a better guard. His brown hair was surprisingly messy for a master servant, though.

"You look tired," Heather greeted, nodding towards his unruly hair.

"Fair tidings to you as well, Lady Lowell," Frederick bowed. "It has been rather busy as of late. I couldn't even grab a single comb when I fled with the Princess."

"Why don't you use one of Lissa's?" Heather asked.

Frederick gasped, "I could never! That would be over stepping my boundaries as—"

"Is the Princess here?" Heather interrupted.

Frederick regained his composure and nodded, "Indeed. She will be happy to see you."

Heather reached for the doorknob. Frederick's arm stopped her as he grabbed her shoulder. Confused, Heather watched as the master servant brushed a few ruffles out of the scarf that wrapped around her neck.

"Sorry, that was bothering me," Frederick apologized.

"Frederick, never change," Heather smiled and entered the room.

The room was nicely sized, though there wasn't much in it beside a bed and a mirror. Sitting in the one chair in the room, Princess Lissa turned her head to the door and smiled at her.

"Heather!" Lissa laughed in surprise. "I should have known you'd turn up!"

The Princess of Ylisse wore a plain yellow dress and a simple brown bodice with her hair hanging down in no style. In a way, she was luckier than Emmeryn had been. Lissa wasn't spoiled by the life of luxury Emmeryn had been used to. The Princess had lived sequestered in a small, far away room within the castle for her life. And that was why she only had a simple modest dress and bodice, because she never had better. The young woman, not even an adult yet, was short. So short that it lead to everyone being taller than her. The Princess didn't mind though, she was content with her life to an extent.

"Princess," Heather said, kneeling before the woman who hadn't even come of age yet.

"Oh, get up, Heather," Lissa insisted. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the wooden cane that leaned against the wall. Putting her weight on it, the Princess stood up. "I want a hug, not a kneeling."

Heather obliged, embracing the woman she often saw as the little sister she never had. The Hand wished that Lissa had been able to spend more time outside of her room as they grew up. But the limp that Lissa carried from birth…King Cornelius had hidden it from the public.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when the capital fell," Heather whispered.

"That's okay," Lissa said. "I had Frederick with me. He protected me. I'm sure you were watching my sister, after all." With the latter part of her sentence, Lissa gave Heather a sly wink that sent Heather blushing.

"Actually, I was on a mission for your sister," Heather said. "I'm not sure where she is."

"Legault is off looking for her. He'll find her," Lissa said, sitting back down with little struggle. "But what was this mission she sent you on?"

"To find this," Heather rested a hand on the Prima which she had tucked under the thick belt she wore.

"Fancy," Lissa said, giving it an appraising look-over. "Does it do anything special?"

"I'm an accomplished juggler," Glen muttered, leaning against one of the room's walls.

Heather flinched, completely forgetting about Glen. The Hand resisted from looking over at the red armored man.

"Something wrong?" Lissa asked, cocking her head.

"No, just thought I heard something," Heather lied. "How have you been?"

"Comfortable, I help out where I can," Lissa said. "No one knows my face, so I can run some errands for Chrom. Ones that don't have a time limit, at least."

"When we retake Ylisse, I'll make sure that you're not shut away because of some silly thing like a limp," Heather swore. "On my honor, I promise this."

"Just concentrate on freeing this city first," Lissa smiled. "Then worry about me."

"You don't want me to worry about you?"

"I have Frederick for that," Lissa giggled.

"Lady Heather?" Frederick peeked his head in the room. "Lord Chrom requests your presence."

"I'll be right there," Heather replied. Frederick nodded, and closed the door.

"Do come back and visit," Lissa said, her voice hopeful. "It does get boring in here."

"What do you do to pass the time in here?" Heather asked, skeptically looking around the room.

"When I'm not helping with the meetings, Frederick brings me books to read," Lissa said.

"I'll be back soon," Heather said, walking to the large mirror and fixing her hair. "I'll need some sort of relief after dealing with my father."

"Did he find out about you calling yourself Baroness Heather Lowell?" Lissa asked.

Heather cursed, "I forgot I did that. That'll make him angry if he finds out."

"To be fair, what even is the title of your position? For a man, it'd be Baronet," Lissa wondered. "What is it for a woman?"

"You'll have to tell me when I next come to visit," Heather grinned, and left the room.

**『』**

"Is this really necessary?" Camus sighed, meeting Lucia's eyes for the first time in the conversation. He held the unofficial office of head General of the Valmese Army in Ylisse. And that came with a separate building just for him (And his brother. It was much too lavish for his tastes.).

"They're prisoners that serve no purpose," Lucia explained. "Originally, the plan was to trade them for Orson. But Linus told you how that went."

"Underhanded tactics," mutter Camus. "Not honorable at all."

"This is war, not a jousting contest. Honor doesn't win wars," the Vanisher replied.

"But poison? I would have dueled Lady Marisa and killed her in single combat had you two brought this issue to me," the Cornerstone replied.

Lucia waved a hand dismissively, "What's done is done. The poison was delivered, and we'll get confirmation within hours of her death. But now we've got two people left from that raid party, as well as two Generals. What are we supposed to do with them?"

"Keep them as bargaining chips for once we win this war," Camus insisted. "We can negotiate better if we hand over two soldiers, a General and a nobleman."

"There won't be negotiating," Lucia shook her head. "I received word from King Joshua. He said to conquer Ylisse. Completely."

"King Joshua doesn't dictate military matters here," Camus spoke softly. A warning.

Folding her arms, she replied, "For now. Things are stirring up in Valm. And with every competent military mind out of the continent, things are going to get bloody. High King Pelleas may find himself without a throne soon."

"Is that a threat?" Camus asked, not blinking.

"Not from me to you," Lucia said. "Just from King Joshua, saying that change is coming."

"We will have this discussion another time with the other two Cornerstones," Camus spoke with severity. "Execute the three commoner prisoners, but save the nobleman. He  _will_ not be harmed, understood?"

"Understood," Lucia parroted and departed.

**『』**

"How many are we taking?" Luke asked, opening the door.

Trabant stepped through the door courteously held open by the Captain, "Lucia said all but the noble. I say fuck that, we're taking all of them."

"What?" Luke gasped. "That goes against orders!"

"I'm a mercenary," Trabant took the keys off on of the guards and opened the first cell. "I obey my own orders first and foremost."

"You can't execute a noble without repercussions!" Luke protested, though he made no move to stop the Wyvern Rider from opening the next cell.

"These Ylisseans, they think they're so high and mighty. Valm attacked my country and they made no move to help," Trabant growled. "And you know what I received when Ylisstol fell? A request for the aid of my Wyvern Riders. Wyvernshit, like hell I would try and help them!"

"If you care about your country, then why are you helping us?" Luke asked, seeming to accept Trabant's reasoning.

"I care about my people, I do my best to look out for them. But they also live in a desert, or in a landscape where farmland is far and few between," Trabant explained gruffly. "Valm will win this war, there's no doubt about that. It benefits my country that I be on the winning side. Thracia, and all of Plegia, ain't going to shit because of me."

"That's…almost noble," Luke said, sounding surprised.

"What, did you think me a wretched old soldier who glorified bloodlust?" Trabant asked. "Because I am that!"

Luke didn't respond.

"Come on, let's get these fools on their way to the next life. If there is one," Trabant said, motioning to the guards to take their prisoners.

**『』**

"Didn't think it'd be ending like this," Klein muttered to the woman who stood beside him.

"Life is full of surprises," Briggid said, her voice mellow. In front of them, Trabant and Luke walked Dart and Ike to the plateau where they'd set up their executions.

"Do you think, after this mess is all finished, that you'd want to come back to Ylisstol with me?" Klein asked.

Briggid turned her head slightly, "We aren't going to survive this."

"But if we did, would you come back with me?" Klein persisted.

"General Klein Lowell," Briggid began with raised eyebrows, "are you hitting on me?"

"Well…I suppose I am," Klein chuckled. "The prospect of death makes you do crazy things, huh? My sister would be proud of me."

They came to an abrupt halt as a man clad in brown wearing a mask stood in their way. He spoke in a low voice, "Lord Trabant, what is the meaning of this?"

"Executions," the Wyvern Lord simply shrugged.

"My brother approved this?" the man Klein recognized as Sirius asked.

"Yep," Trabant said. "These four are going to be parted from their heads with official approval."

"…" Sirius said nothing for a moment. Then, "I'm taking charge of this now."

"What?" Trabant and Luke said at the same time.

"Guards, let's go," Sirius commanded. Two women grabbed Dart and Ike and took over for Trabant and Luke who began following at the back of the pack.

Sirius led the four prisoners to the wooden construct. The Cornerstone stepped up the three stairs so that he stood above the troop and captives below.

"We'll do the one with the bandana first," Sirius decided. One of the guards grabbed the arm of the Raid Captain and walked him up the stage.

The armored soldier pushed Dart to his knees and thrust his body so it lay across the wooden box, his neck extended over the side.

Sirius accepted greatsword from one of the soldiers. Stepping beside Dart, he spoke, "If you try to run, I can promise you a far more gruesome death."

Dart nodded, though Klein couldn't determine whether he meant it.

"Have you any last words, or declarations to make before I send you to the beyond?" Sirius asked. He rested the blade point first on the ground.

"To hell with you, and to hell with all of Valm," grunted Dart.

Sirius said nothing. He swung the blade up like a fulcrum and plunged it down, severing Dart's head from his body in one single stroke.

Klein didn't look away as the once pirate's head clunked off the stage. He watched the head until it finally stopped rolling.

The Cornerstone withdrew a white cloth from within his tunic and wiped the greatsword down, staining said cloth with blood.

A guard jostled Klein, breaking the General out of his trance. The yellow haired nobleman turned his head to glare at the guard, but the man brought his head next to Klein's ear and spoke fast.

"You don't know me, Klein Lowell, but I am a Hand in her majesty's retinue. As a favor from your sister, I can help you escape right now, should you wish it," the man said quietly.

Klein's eyes bulged. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to him as they cleaned up Dart's corpse and pitched it off the side of the plateau.

"I've got a bow right here, and a quiver," the Hand spoke again. "If you move fast, you can save yourself and the other two."

"I'm not chained, give them to me," Klein hissed.

"Understood," the man said. "I cannot help you after this. My position is too valuable to risk."

"Hand me the damn bow," Klein muttered.

"They're at your feet. Give me five seconds," the Hand said, departing.

One…

Sirius gestured for Ike to be brought up next.

Two…

Briggid glanced over at Klein, and saw the bow at his feet.

Three…

Luke began walking toward Klein, a concerned look on his face.

Four…

Ike began walking up to the contruct.

Five!

Klein reached down and grabbed the bow. An arrow was out of the quiver and on the bow before Luke could even move to draw his sword.

The War Archer fired an arrow straight into Luke's forehead.

Briggid shoved an elbow into the guard holding her. The woman doubled over and the General liberated her knife from its sheath. The knife in Briggid's hands lanced into the soldier's throat.

Ike, the strong man he was, punched his escort right in the jaw. Klein could hear the crack of a jaw breaking from where he stood.

"Why the  _fuck_ weren't they bound!?" Trabant screamed in frustration. He spun his lance, Gungnir, angrily, "You Valmese are awful at executions!"

Klein grinned as he finished off the guard Ike had punched. Never mind that it was Trabant's fault, since he originally collected them.

Another arrow hit the soldier creeping up on Briggid, who had taken the bow off of the guard she'd stabbed.

Ike leapt at Sirius, who wasn't accustomed to the heavy blade he still had in his hands. The Cornerstone dropped it, giving Ike a weapon. Though that gave Sirius the time he needed to draw his thinner blade.

"Get together!" shouted Klein, his arrows keeping the guards off Ike's back.

Briggid gravitated to Klein's side, keeping the soldiers away from them. "We need an escape," she stated.

"Working on it!" Klein yelled, reaching to the quiver for another arrow.

Empty.

"I'm out!" Klein exclaimed, despair clinging to his voice.

"Me too," Briggid said, firing her last arrow to keep Trabant at bay.

**『』**

Ike swung the thick sword at Sirius with surprising speed. But even though he was taken aback, Sirius knocked the blade aside and kicked Ike to the ground.

"Nice try," Sirius said, bringing the blade up to jab it into Ike's neck for a quick death.

Ike closed his eyes. His father, mother and little sister flashed into his vision. The thought of not seeing them again, was unbearable.

Ike Snapped.

His blood froze, sending tremors through his bones. His right hand burst into flame, a stark contrast to the feeling the rest of his body experienced.

With a roar, Ike pushed himself off the wooden stage and knocked Sirius over and off the construct. The fire from his hand lit the wood on fire. The dry heat of the Plegian landscape had caused the wood to lose whatever wetness it had once possessed. The wood caught on fire faster than Ike ever thought possible.

No guards were near Ike, and Sirius was still recovering from hitting the ground. Still holding the heavy sword, Ike ran as fast as he could to the bridge that connected the plateaus.

**『』**

The Valmese abandoned Ike, choosing instead to corner Klein and Briggid. The two yellow haired Generals felt their feet reaching the edge of the plateau.

"At least we'll still get to kill some Generals," Trabant growled, pointing his Gungnir so it was mere inches away from Klein.

"Seems like we're backed into a corner," Klein muttered.

"That invitation to go back with you still open?" Briggid asked.

Klein blinked, "Yeah, I suppose."

The woman turned to Klein and gave an uncharacteristic smirk, "We're not at a corner now, are we?"

She grabbed Klein and kissed him, and jumped with him from the plateau.

**『』**

"This is my brother's handiwork. That much I'm certain," Canas said, taking his monocle and holding it over the dark sigil on Orson's skin. The older dark mage sat next to the bed in which the man in question lay, unconscious.

"Your brother?" Hugh asked.

"Etzel," Canas said, giving his son a look.

"Ah," Hugh said, placated.

"More importantly, what does it do?" Lloyd persisted.

Canas placed his monocle back in front of his eye and turned to the two men with him, "It toxifies his blood. Instead of carrying a vial of poison, an assassin could merely prick his finger, and he'd have poison at his very hand, so to speak."

"So this is what Orson did to Marisa?" the Lord General said, turning to the other bed in the room. The Mantled General lay peacefully with her head bandaged where she had hit it when she fell.

"With the particular type of sigil here, Lady Marisa is lucky to not have died," Canas said. "I mean, just look at the complexity! Etzel anchored it so that it ran off Orson's innate ether, instead of using an ether deposit or transfer! With this, Orson could operate as an assassin for as long or wherever as he liked! And he used an Eclipse sigil as a base instead of a Fenrir—"

"Father," Hugh prompted.

"Oh? Right, right," Canas said, turning in his chair towards Marisa. "The Lady General has lapsed into a coma. I have no idea when she'll wake. You'll want that young Lucius in Lord Ephraim's retinue to look at her for a more detailed analysis. But as a dark mage who knows about tissue decay and basic body working, I conclude that Marisa is in no danger. It must have been diluted in the wine, so she ingested less than she could have. We're lucky I was able to purge the poison so quickly."

"You did do that very quickly, father," Hugh complimented.

"It was because it was Etzel's work. He must not know I am here, or else he would have changed the formula to something I am less familiar with, such as a Balberith or even a Luna—"

"Father," Hugh coughed.

Canas fell into a silence and Lloyd chuckled. "I'm glad she'll be okay, but that leaves us without a figurehead. Marisa was no leader, but she was someone the troops followed into battle. I'm not that man, or at least I need to be in the back watching everything."

"We don't have any Mantled that can take her place," Hugh said. "And there aren't any in our army. I'll ask Lord Ephraim, but I doubt he has any."

"Only someone who has proved themselves in combat could take her place," Canas said. "Someone like General Klein, or my son Hugh."

"Me?" Hugh said, taken aback.

"You're a good leader, Hugh," Canas said. "Not a tactical one, but you could lead troops into battle."

"It's an idea," Lloyd said. "I'll be thinking about this over the next day, or until this Lucius looks at Marisa."

"What are we going to do about him?" Hugh asked, pointing at Orson.

Lloyd turned back to Canas, "Can you strip that thing from him so that he's harmless?"

"Indeed, I will get to work on it," the dark mage turned to the unconscious man.

"Then we'll execute him. I'll consider how it should be done," Lloyd said.

"Pardon me, but who are we executing?" said a new voice as the door behind Lloyd opened.

"This is a private room, you have no business—" Lloyd slammed his mouth shut once he realized who it was.

Mage General Pent stepped into the room, rounding out the last of Ylisse's major Generals in the room. Pent was one of the rare nobles who didn't try to be well dressed, yet still pulled it off. Though that could be attributed to his wife's help. Pent wore a long lavender cape with a nobleman's tunic that was a few hues darker. Stylized whorls decorated the top half of his tunic. But those that judged him for his attire and silver hair, paid the price at the hand of Pent the Mage General.

"Sorry it took us so long to get here," Pent smiled. "We were on our way here when we encountered a troop of a thousand Fiends. We took the time to take care of them."

"It's a good thing you're here, milord!" Hugh grinned.

"Please, I'm only a General here on the battlefield," Pent laughed. "There are no Lords on the battlefield. We bleed and die just as easily as peasants.

"But enough of that. We'll talk about my arrival and the Fiends later. Right now I want to know why our Mantled General is laying on a bed with three members of command surrounding her."

"A bit of poisoning," Lloyd said, his voice dark. "We have the assassin here."

"Orson? I thought he was one of ours?" Pent said, scratching his head. "And what is that on his skin there? Is that a toxification sigil, anchored on an Eclipse?"

"Yes!" Canas exclaimed, excited for someone else that understood his language.

Hugh and Lloyd sighed as the two mages launched into a discussion.

**『』**

"Have they all arrived?" Pelleas asked, maintaining a fast stride as he walked down the long hallway of Castle Daein.

"Yes," Rennac said, flanking the High King on his right. "They'll all be directed to the counsel room when you're ready."

"Lara, are our people in the serving staff?" Pelleas asked, taking a turn to the right.

Lara, who flanked Pelleas on his left, nodded, "Leen and the others are in position. If things get…messy, they'll be ready."

"Good," Pelleas said, stopping outside of his destination. "Notify Hector. He is the last person I want to die if things get out of hand."

"Understood," Lara said, and began to depart.

"Not you, Lara. Rennac, this is your assignment. See to it that it is done," Pelleas commanded.

The brown haired attendant raised an eyebrow, but nodded and left to carry out his duties. Lara looked at her father, questions spawning in her eyes without any verbal confirmation.

"Each King of Valm has one person accompany them into the counsel room. You'll be with me," Pelleas said.

"Lord Rennac has always had that position," Lara slowly said. "Why me?"

"You're my heir. If you're to be High Queen one day, then you need to learn how to deal with these vipers that call themselves Kings," Pelleas said, resting a hand on the doorknob.

"I don't think Hector would appreciate being called a viper."

"No? Well, I suppose he's more of a boar than anything else," Pelleas laughed. "But are you willing?"

"Absolutely," Lara said without any indecision.

"Then lets jump right in," Pelleas said, opening the door.


	16. Gambits and Gambling

**Chapter 16  
Gambits and Gambling**

**『』**

As the man approached, Emmeryn and Legault grew ever more on edge. The lavender haired man's hands were on his knives.

Emmeryn didn't move. She had no means of defending herself, except words. If this man, this Stefan, meant her harm, then only her words could protect her.

The man had a mane of green hair, which was bright and conspicuous. His longcoat was tattered and worn, having seen too many seasons. Albeit frayed at the edges, it kept Stefan shielded from the desert sun. The once deep purple color had faded into a dull tone, its very life drained by the sun. With the help of a thin belt, a worn sword hung at the side of the man.

"It is strange to see a noblewoman in the desert," Stefan said, studying the fair haired woman interestedly. "I haven't seen a woman of your stature since the time of the Rigwalds."

"You're familiar with house Rigwald?" Emmeryn asked, meeting the green haired man's eyes.

"I am Warden of the Desert," Stefan spoke, his voice sounding strange to Emm's ears. Was it an accent? She couldn't tell, but something was different about this man. "I know every person who claims dominion over part of my land. The Rigwalds were one of those that I dealt with."

"You were the one who killed them?" Emmeryn asked, unable to keep a sliver of surprise out of her tone.

"No, that butchery was from a different house. One I didn't know," Stefan shook his head. "But that is in the past, and the past is not important to the immediate present. Who are you, and what brings you to my desert?"

"I am Emmeryn, and I am on my way to Ylisstol, my home," she spoke.

Stefan glanced at the man next to her, "I seem to remember that the Queen of Ylisse was named Emmeryn, and that she has gone missing."

"Such a tragedy," Emmeryn said, unblinking.

"Indeed," Stefan muttered. He looked away, towards the moon that loomed over them in the sky. Quietly, he said, "I will bring you back to the border of my lands. No further."

"Your kindness is appreciated," Legault inclined his head.

"Why?" Emmeryn asked at the same time. Beside her, Legault cringed.

Stefan turned back to the pair, "I'm not sure. I only know that there is a young woman before me who needs help. I am a man who would not sleep easily were I to leave you here."

**『』**

Brenya sat down cross-legged adjacent to her father. Count Etzel Cross sat likewise, looking over canyon's expanse. They were near the edge, but not so close that falling in was a worry.

"Daughter," greeted the man. Etzel was dressed in dark robes. They gave no indication whether he was old or young, fit or fat. Only his face gave such clues. His long red hair was bound into a pony tail that fell down the front of his shoulder. At his eyes, a monocle rested that gave Etzel the sight age had deprived from him.

"Father, I hoped that I might speak with you about something," Brenya said, her voice thin.

Etzel noticed, and turned his attention to her, "Is something wrong?"

"This is," Brenya said, holding up the stump that was her arm. Etzel nodded, silently asking her to continue. "I never told you the name of the person who took my hand. His name was Canas. Do you know this man?"

"Ah," was all Etzel said. He took his monocle off, dusting the sandy dirt off the glass. "Did he have a monocle, and purple hair?"

"Yes."

"There is no mistake then, that man is my brother," Etzel said, biting his lip.

"And for my entire childhood, it never once occurred to you to mention that you had a brother, and I an uncle?" Brenya said, her voice cutting like ice.

"Brenya, you must understand something about me, and about dark magic," Etzel said, his volume dropping a level. "Dark magic is the strongest of fire, wind, lightning and light. But it also has a price that the user must pay.

"A dark mage's spells aren't fueled by ether, like fire, wind or lightning. And they certainly aren't sustained by faith like light magic is. They get their power from memories," Etzel explained. "The more memories you have, the more you can cast.

"But once a memory is…devoured, it's gone. I don't remember my brother. The only reason I can fit a face to name is that there is a picture of him on our family tree," Etzel admitted. "Another example is your mother. You grew up knowing her. You also know more about my wife than I do."

"What happens when you run out of memories?" Brenya asked.

"Then my very being is devoured by the darkness. Permanently. I'll be no more than a Fiend, wandering with no idea of who, or what I am," Etzel said. Strangely, he didn't sound disturbed by it.

"Then you need to stop right now," Brenya said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I won't have my father committing a slow suicide."

Etzel replaced his monocle and shook his head, "This is my choice. I am willing to give my life for my country, and I shall when the time comes."

"You are an idiot, father," Brenya growled.

**『』**

"What can you tell me about your job here at the castle?" Cath asked, folding her hands on the table as she looked expectantly at the servant.

"I am in charge of overseeing the Lord of the castle's chambers," the servant spoke.

"What did you say your name was?" Cath followed up. Not that she needed confirmation. This was Jakob, Lord Uther's personal attendant. He wore the black and white garb of a master servant, while his tan hair was neatly kept in a braid down his back.

But Cath asked for a reason. Her eyes studied every aspect of Jakob's face, looking for anything that could give her a clue.

" _Every man and woman has a tell," Anna said. "You just have to find them, be it a tell of truth or a lie."_

" _You've got good eyes, Cath," Matthew grinned. "I bet you'll even catch when Anna's lying!"_

" _Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Anna said, fighting to keep a grin off her expression._

Cath blinked. Another flashback…what did it mean? Anna…she was a guardian figure of some sort. That much was certain from her disposition. Matthew was a brother, Cath discerned. By blood?

"My name is Jakob, master servant to Uther and now Hector," he spoke, his tone unchanging.

_Shit, I missed it,_ Cath's expression told nothing.

"Give me an overview of your duties," Cath said, buying herself time.

Jakob brought a hand up to his chin and thought for a moment, "I was Uther's attendant. I did everything for him."

"Define everything."

"Fine," Jakob said, annoyed. "An example is when I took a letter to another Lord staying in the castle. Or another is how I'd bring him his meals personally. How about the time I spied on someone at his command?"

"You spied on someone for Lord Uther?" Cath said, an eyebrow raised.

"As I said, I was his most trusted servant," said Jakob. "As a master servant, I swore myself to my Lord."

"Do you know how he died?"

"I'd heard the rumor of poison, but other than that I do not," Jakob shrugged.

_Got you,_ Cath inwardly smirked. Jakob's hand twitched with that answer. Was that his tell?

"You were his most trusted confidant," Cath spoke, "and you can't tell me how he died?"

"I was not with him the night of his death. If I had been, I might have been able to stop whoever carried out the deed," Jakob snarled.

"Do you know who it might have been?" Cath asked.

Hand twitch. "No, I haven't a clue."

"I think that clears things up for us then. You may return to your work," Cath said.

Jakob stood immediately, "Thank you. I hope you find the killer."

Another hand twitch.

"I think I will," Cath said. "I am a Morph. And I have been ordered to find whoever killed your Lord. I won't rest until I do."

_Of course, Ephidel doesn't care much for who actually killed Lord Uther. He cares about who ordered the hit._

**『』**

" _She_ was the woman the Farseer was talking about?" Cormag frowned as they left the arena. No one stopped them, for people only ever seemed to enter the arena, not exit it.

"I saw it. The Avvenire showed me," Matthew said.

Cormag seemed to accept that reasoning. They waited until the cleared the crowds to continue their conversation.

"So let's just say we actually need this woman," Sain began. "How are we going to get her? She's a fighter in the Feroxi arena. That's just a formality of being a slave."

"Slaves in Ferox cost thousands of gold. Plus she's Mantled, and a successful fighter. We can't afford her," Leila said, ever the voice of logic. "That means we'll have to get to her some other way."

"Through the man who owns her," Matthew said, connecting the dots.

"Exactly," Leila said. "If we become indebted to this person, perhaps we can take her as compensation. The Feroxi view slaves as less than property, so he might be willing to give her up."

"A piece of property that likely makes him a lot of gold," Cormag muttered.

Matthew opened his mouth to respond. Something flickered in the crowd in front of him.

Something red.

"Ah…we might have company," Matthew said, drawing his sword. Nearby civilians edged away from him, fearing anyone who so blatantly drew their weapon.

"What?" Leila scrunched her eyebrows, and turned to see what Matthew was looking at.

"It's Navarre," Matthew said. "Get ready for a fight."

The man in red emerged from the crowd and drew his sword. The surrounding Feroxi pieced things together and made themselves scarce. Within a minute, not a single person lingered on the streets.

"It seems we're at round two," Navarre smirked.

**『』**

Emmeryn inched closer to the fire, wrapping her arms around herself. The now beaten clothes from her time in the camp struggled to keep her warm. Only feet away, Legault lay on the sand, snoring softly.

At least Stefan had taken it upon himself to tend and set the fire up. He also took care of their dinner, leaving for no more than ten minutes and coming back with a couple of rodents.

They'd tasted foul, but Emmeryn's taste buds had lost their refined qualities after she left the capital.

"What were you doing out here in the desert?" Emmeryn asked their green haired guide.

"Hunting," Stefan said lightly. "As of late, a fearsome beast lurks beneath the sands. I must quell its anger, or kill it."

"What type of monster is it?"

"A Basilisk, one that slithers through the sands instead of the grass. It is more akin to a sea serpent than a snake," Stefan spoke quietly. "It will be a tough opponent."

"Why don't you just leave it?" Emmeryn proposed. "It lives in the desert, it cannot hurt anyone."

Stefan shook his head, frowning, "I am Warden of the Desert. I will protect whoever is in my domain, Plegian or Ylissean. It matters not to me. I earned my longcoat in Arulia itself, and it would be a dishonor were I not to use my skills for others."

"That's selfless of you," the woman commended.

"You doubt that I could be so selfless, I can hear it in your voice," Stefan said. "But surely you can understand. When a man holds a sword in his hands, he feels like he can take on the world. Is it not simple to use such skills for the good of the people?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't have any skill with a blade, or any other weapon," Emmeryn shrugged.

Stefan sat with more attention, "You mean you are defenseless?"

"That's why I have Legault, and my other Hands," Emmeryn explained. "That is how I am protected."

"Foolishness," Stefan muttered. "That means all an enemy must do is get you alone. Then you are as you are, which is weak."

"Excuse me," Emmeryn growled, "I don't believe that I asked your opinion."

"Come," Stefan stood. "I will teach you how to protect yourself." He removed the sheath from his belt and carried it in his hand. "Come," he repeated.

"Why would you help me?" Emmeryn asked, not having moved yet.

"A woman who cannot use a weapon is a woman who must rely on others at all times," Stefan spoke.

"Words are my weapons," countered the fair haired woman.

Stefan bowed his head slightly, "Indeed, but those are a sword for the courts in Ylisstol, not the deserts of Plegia. Words shall not talk down a bandit who sees a defenseless girl, or a sand snake who cannot speak."

"I am no girl," Emmeryn hissed, standing with an offensive pose.

"You are a girl when it comes to the way of the blade. Just like I am a boy when it comes to the way of words and your court in Ylisstol," Stefan spoke. "A girl who does not try to grow properly will not. You will grow crooked, and be useless for blades later. It is best to start now."

"I can't learn anything significant in the few weeks we'll be together," Emmeryn replied.

"Perhaps, or perhaps not," Stefan said. "But I believe you underestimate Stefan, blademaster of Arulia. I was taught by the best until I was among the best. You, girl, have the aptitude to fight. Will you not grasp it?"

_He's right you know,_ her mind piped up.  _Defending yourself would be a boon to your skills as a Queen._

_I am no Queen. Not now._

_Either way, it cannot hurt to learn the sword,_ the voice reasoned.

"Fine," Emmeryn accepted. "But can you guarantee any form of success?"

"You will not be as weak," Stefan said. "Come." And with that, the man with the longcoat walked away, letting Emmeryn follow him.

**『』**

When Heather reentered the meeting room, a new face had joined the crowd.

Greil, Eliwood and her father spoke with each other while Chrom conversed with the newcomer. Igrene seemed to have vanished for the time being. As Heather's footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, the white clad man turned to her.

Claude's yellow hair ran long down his back. High Priests were required to not cut their hair, except for once a year as a service to Naga. Heather always thought it produced a feminine man, but Claude was her brother and that didn't matter. He wore the white garments of a Nagite, with a black mantle signaling his rank as a High Priest.

"Hello, brother," Heather smiled. "It's been a while."

Claude perked up immediately and threw out his arms to embrace his sister. "Heather, father said you'd eventually get here," he said. "I'm glad that you'll be helping us now."

"Sit down, you two," Faval Lowell said. He gestured with his hand for his two children to sit down at the empty chairs next to Greil and Eliwood respectively. "We have much to discuss."

The two Lowells sat down at the end of the table, near Prince Chrom. Claude sat upright, like a true nobleman. Heather, on the other hand, lounged back, much to her father's displeasure.

"Claude, anything to report?" Faval asked, deciding to ignore his daughter's actions. For now.

"The other High Priests are still undecided," Claude shifted uncomfortably. "I told you the last time, father. They aren't going to get involved without significant reason. Their faith is what matters to them."

"I thought that Prince Chrom and all of house Vialdi was sacred in their eyes, a living representation of Naga's presence in our world. Or does that not matter to them?" Eliwood asked, stroking his chi thoughtfully.

"They do not believe we have Prince Chrom, or Princess Lissa," Claude spoke. "Prince Chrom will have to make public appearances for them to side with us."

"For a bunch of people who believe in a god they cannot see, they lack faith," Heather muttered, unable to resist the quip.

Claude shot her a warning glance, and continued on, "People will not follow a shadow, father."

"Your plan is dangerous, your holiness," Greil reasoned. "We cannot risk the Prince's life so freely. If he were to be killed—"

"Lissa would rule," Heather interrupted.

"That is even more against Claude's plan," Faval said, dulling the point she made. "She is a Princess that has lived her life in the shadows. The public knows what Prince Chrom looks like. They love him. Ergo, losing him would be catastrophic."

"The root of the problem is that we cannot protect the Prince's life," Duke Eliwood summed up. "Until we can do that, it is inadvisable to try and display the heir to the throne."

"What about those two Hands we have working with us? Are they not enough to protect his highness?" Claude asked.

"No," Faval said. "They can watch in the night and protect the Prince then. But they are the type to fight behind the scenes, not in the daylight."

"My son, Roy, is leading a battalion of soldiers to the Ruins of Animas," Eliwood brought up. "Say he were to take half, five hundred or so, and take them here to protect the Prince?"

"It couldn't be more than a hundred," Faval amended. "Any more and it would raise questions. Lord Roy must be contacted immediately."

"What is the status of the Mantle guilds?" Greil asked, turning attention to him. "They are the best candidates to protect us, and betray us. We must win them to our side."

"Daughter," Faval spoke, his voice like a whip. Heather reluctantly turned her head to him. He made steady eye contact with her, "You will find the leader of the guilds. I want you to meet with him, and figure out what he wants. Sir Greil is right, we need them. If Lord Solidor were to get Coinshots, Lurchers, Vanishers and the whole lot of Mantled on his side, we would lose in an instant."

"Sounds like a plan, father," Heather spoke, the stiff words falling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Blinking, her resolve strengthened, "But I want to know what Prince Chrom has to say about all these plans that we have talked about without his input."

Five pairs of eyes turned to the scion of royalty who sat silently. Prince Chrom cleared his throat, and said, "I agree with what has been said. I trust my advisors."

Heather flicked her eyes to see the victory in Faval Lowell's eyes.  _Father did always want a figurehead. Now he's got one,_ Heather groaned inwardly. She needed to have a talk with the head of her house.

But that would have to wait. The door burst open and Igrene stormed in, breathing heavily.

"There's an execution happening in the Center. It's going to escalate into a riot unless we do something," Igrene said between breaths.

**『』**

Falling.

The air roared past his face, far louder than any Wyvern he'd ever heard. Klein tried to pry his eyes open, but the sheer flood of pressure against his face made it a struggle.

All that he could do was hold onto Briggid tightly. She did the same, her hands clenching into his skin, as if she were trying to rip him apart.

She said something, but Klein could not hear it. He'd managed to get an eye open, and saw the looming ground approaching. Not quickly, though. Time slithered by at a caterpillar's pace, and Klein just wanted it to be over.

_Let the torture be over,_ he pleaded. Nothing was going to change. He wouldn't Snap like Ike had. Only some were so lucky.

Only some would see their families and friends again. Only some would live out their days in the arms of a woman.

Only some wouldn't die.

With the feeling of getting kicked by a horse, Klein's body collapsed into something dense. The ground? No, this was round and had movement. This was a…

Pegasus?

"You two are so  _fucking_ lucky I got here in time!" Farina screamed, veering her Pegasus away to evade arrows and javelins that rained from the Valmese on the plateau.

Klein blinked, and began to laugh. His entire being became covered in mirth, and he was unable to contain it.

Briggid opened her eyes, and exhaled. Farina spurred the Pegasus onward towards the Ylissean side of the Ruins.

To safety.

**『』**

"Is everyone on their way?" Rennac asked, adjusting the serving girl's attire on Leen.

"If they haven't arrived yet, they'll be there soon," the green haired woman said. "And the signal is…?"

"Kill them if the High King stands up before the meeting ends. He'll say something and look at you if he wishes you to act. You are  _only_  to act should he turn and speak to you, understood?"

"Of course," Leen said, checking the weapons she had hidden

"This could be one of the most pivotal moments in this Kingdom's history," Rennac whispered. "Don't fuck it up."

"I'm going in," Leen declared. She, and the four other serving girls who were also Rennac's followed her in, carrying trays of food and beverages.

**『』**

The streets were silent except for Cormag and Leila drawing their weapons. Sain unhitched the lance from its harness on his back.

With not a civilian in sight, the once bustling street turned out to be much bigger than Matthew had originally noticed.

"How did he find us so quickly?" Cormag murmured, his voice reaching the other three's ears in the quiet.

"Doesn't matter," Matthew said, eyeing the metal gauntlet on Navarre's left hand. The man was a Coinshot so…

Without warning, Navarre leapt forward, bringing his gauntleted fist up to punch. With over thirty feet between them, it looked like a foolish move.

The crimson swordsman pushed on the gauntlet, flinging himself towards the party at a frightening speed.

Matthew Vanished out of the way while Cormag took the brunt of the attack. His withered weapon collided with Navarre's protected fist, stopping it in its tracks.

"Your sword has seen better days," he said, a smirk unfurling on his face.

With a sharp crack, the sword broke in two. Navarre brought back his fist, ready for another punch. He pushed his fist again, sending it with the force of a claymore's swing at Cormag's stomach.

Cormag caught it.

"Don't punch a Mantled man," groaned Cormag, his fist screaming as bones had broken. Despite the injuries, his hand caught fire. They were the hottest flames he'd ever summoned, and the metal of the gauntlet stood no chance against the Mantled man's power.

Navarre screeched in pain, his cry sounding like a bird's. Cormag's hand let go of the fist shortly after, not able to continue holding. Never the less, the metal began to melt  _into_ Navarre's hand.

Matthew, who had Vanished behind their aggressor, cut a long streak across Navarre's back. Leila cut two quick slashes across Navarre's stomach. And Sain, the slowest of the three, jabbed his lance into the man's thigh. He removed it and a spurt of blood splashed across his armor.

"Not so powerful without surprise on your side, are you?" Matthew taunted as Navarre fell to his knees.

"He was over confident," Leila said. "Take care that you don't make reckless mistakes like he did."

An avalanche of armored footsteps clacked against the cobblestones as the city watch arrived. The lead man, dressed in more furs than armor, yelled, "Hold! Cease your fighting!"

Navarre, broken and battered as he was, took advantage of everyone's lapse in attention. Eyeing the broken sword of Cormag's, he raised a hand up and pushed against it. The blade shot forward, getting caught against the wood of a building.

As the metal met an object that was more unmovable than Navarre, the tides reversed and Navarre soared backward and up. The red clad man sailed out of danger for the second time.

"After him!" shouted the leader of the watch. "You four, drop your weapons!"

Matthew, Leila and Sain looked at each other. Were they going to be locked up for this? Matthew could visibly see Leila's mind exerting, trying to come up with a plan. Matthew certainly didn't have one, and Cormag wasn't in his right mind as he clutched his hand.

Ergo, their salvation came from an unlikely source.

"You simpletons!" screamed Sain. "How could you allow that man to escape?"

"Sir, please just drop your—"

"Do you even know who I am?" Sain roared, stepping up into the guard's face. The surrounding Feroxi leveled their swords and axes at him. "I am Abel Rigwald, heir to a countship in Ylisse!"

The watch captain backed up, unsure of his place. In his hesitation, Sain continued, "I fled my country after those Valmese dastards invaded my lands. And when I got here, in  _your_ city, one of them attacked me! So tell me, watch captain, do you even know how to look after a city?"

"Uh, your lordship, there must be a mistake—"

"Mistake? Oh yes, there is one," Sain seethed. "My bodyguard's hand has been destroyed. The mistake that you made, watch captain, is not bringing me to your Lord as soon as I told you who I was! How else do you expect my best soldier's hand to be fixed? How!?"

"Sorry, Count Rigwald!" the watch captain said with hurry. "Please follow me, and I'll take you to Lord Novera!"

Sain cast a glance at Matthew, giving the Vanisher a smirk.

**『』**

Pelleas sat down in his respective chair. Above him was the house sigil his father, Ashnard, had chosen. A black dragon surrounded by fire in a field of black.

In front of him was a circular table. Painted on it was the seven pointed star of Valm. Soon, the Kings would sit and feast there while discussing whatever matters were on their agenda.

Finally, standing beside Pelleas was his daughter Lara. Each King was allowed one attendant or guard. For Pelleas, he'd always had Rennac at his side to catch every small detail Pelleas couldn't see.

This time, Pelleas didn't have nearly as strong of an attendant with him.

"Lara," beckoned Pelleas. His daughter leaned down so her head was level with his. "I want you to watch Lord Alvis carefully. I can watch everyone else. Make sure to keep track of anything…strange he does."

"What am I looking for?" Lara asked.

"I wish I knew," Pelleas murmured.

The doors across from Pelleas opened. In stomped Hector, wearing his usual armored attire. The blue haired King sat down in the seat next to Pelleas' at the table. Behind him stood a tall blue armored man with purple hair.

"New guard?" Pelleas asked lightly.

"I had to leave Oswin behind to protect Ostia," Hector shrugged, his armor clanking. "He didn't seem to mind very much though. This is Geitz, by the way."

"A pleasure, milord," Geitz bowed as far as his armor would let him.

Their conversation fell to a halt as the next King entered.

Alvis was the only King that never wore the color of his country. A long black cloak hid the mage's appearance, exposing only his face. His mane of red hair was groomed meticulously, gaining a reputation with the serving girls in his castle.

"Good evening," Alvis spoke, taking his seat on the far side of the table.

Hector and Pelleas gave similar greetings, and then returned to their small talk. Lara however, watched the newest member of the room. He didn't bring anyone with him, and sat silently. Why had her father asked her to watch this specific man?

Her questions would have to wait. The King of Agustria entered, and like Alvis he had no additional accompaniment. Eltshan's doublet was a royal red, the color of Valm. The youngest King had yet to become paranoid, and dressed for style rather than safety. At his belt was a fancy blade that had likely been custom forged. His fair, golden hair draped down his back much like Alvis'.

"Lord Eltshan, how has Agustria been?" Pelleas asked, more out of obligation than care.

"It's maintained its normalcy," Eltshan said. "Nothing of interest to report."

Pelleas was much more pleased with the next arrival. He smiled at the older man and said, "King Hayden, it has been too long."

Hayden dressed modestly, opting for only a white breastplate and pauldrons. A green cape fell from his shoulders and barely skimmed the ground. All else he wore was a simple dark tunic.

"Indeed it has, High King," Hayden chuckled. "And how have you fared?"

"Well enough. Hector's been keeping me in line," Pelleas answered. Hector chuckled next to him.

Backing Hayden was Innes, his son. The Prince of Frelia wore a modest blue tunic, in the same vein as his father. His hair was a dirty green, much like Hayden's had once been in his youth.

Hayden didn't need his son's protection. In truth, the King was the most powerful of the seven, even more than Pelleas. The man was a Bloodmaker, after all.

Hector exchanged his own greetings with the King just as Zephiel arrived.

The King of Bern spared no expense when it came to protecting himself. With the large armored Murdock behind him, Zephiel likely had no need for his full body plate mail. Yet the purple armor always accompanied him, along with an illustrious purple cloak that made his intimidating figure all the more frightening. His hair was a dirty yellow and kept in a very military-like style.

Pelleas and Zephiel nodded to each other, and that was that.

"It seems I'm the last to arrive!" spoke a jovial voice, stealing the attention of the entire room.

Joshua wore a dark longcoat, as well as worn hat. In one hand, he constantly flipped a coin from finger to finger while the other grabbed his sword for protection. Unlike Alvis, Joshua's long red hair hung haphazardly and without any semblance of style. The man looked the least kingly of the seven by far.

Finally, the seven Kings of Valm sat at the circular table. On cue, the serving girls entered with plates of food. Lara was quite disappointed that she would be expected to remain standing and not partake in the feast.

The green haired servant stationed herself at the servers' door while the others left the room. Lara couldn't help but notice that she kept glancing at her father.

_Eyes on Alvis, Lara,_ she scolded herself.

But she would find it dull, since the Kings had come to the silent agreement of eating before any form of discussion. So she looked at Prince Innes, who was only two years her senior.

He was quite the handsome man. L'Arachel had mentioned him on several occasions, and his arrogant attitude.

"Shall we begin?" Zephiel rumbled, pushing the plate in front of him aside.

"Let's," Pelleas agreed, doing the same. One by one, the remaining Kings pushed their dinners aside in favor of truly beginning the meeting. The serving girls were out in a flash, cleaning up the feast so quickly that it almost hadn't taken place.

This time, the serving girls remained inside the room as if waiting for something.

"And what does the great High King have planned for us this time?" Joshua said, lazing back into his chair with no regard for decorum.

"Several things," Pelleas said. "But first, we must speak about the war."

"Don't waste our time with that," Alvis spoke for the first time that night. "You know, as well as all of us, that we each have soldiers and spies there that tell us what is going on."

"Then allow me to give a brief overview, so that we are on the same page," Pelleas supplied. "General Zelgius Steelwind has broken through the Feroxi Longfort. As of now, he is making slow progress to his next target. The snows have begun to pick up, and he has been delayed.

"On the other side, the Ruins of Animas are in a far direr situation. The Ylisseans have repelled our attacks on two occasions. With reinforcements from their two major dukedoms, the Ylisseans have become a force that we cannot ignore. Our Cornerstones are doing their best, but the numbers are no longer so far in their favor."

"What of this General Orson who turned?" Hayden asked, leaning forward and folding his hands.

"He was recaptured," Pelleas answered. "Generals Linus and Lucia attempted to plant him inside the enemy camp so he'd poison the Ylissean Mantled General. He failed, and is due to be executed."

"It was a good plan," Joshua defended. "Orson just was not up to the task."

"How long can our troops hold out at the Ruins?" Hector asked. "Are we talking about one more attack, or a couple of months?"

"Long enough," Zephiel answered. "I suggest that once General Steelwind finishes off Ferox, that he take his army south and held fight the Ylisseans."

"Agreed," Alvis spoke. "It won't take much to hold Ferox itself. If we kill the leader and this Count Novera, then we can hold the country indefinitely."

"Any objections?" Pelleas asked.

"If I may," Eltshan raised a hand slightly. "But shouldn't we reinforce our hold on Plegia? If the Ylisseans push us back before Steelwind can get there, it might be useful."

"A fine point," Zephiel said. "I'll supply the troops. A legion should be enough, correct?"

"More than enough," Hayden agreed. "It seems like we've reach an agreement."

"That was easier than I expected," Pelleas admitted. "The next issue I hope to take on is the tariffs on Frelian steel…"

Lara couldn't help but grow bored and ignore the debates. As her father broached each new subject, the sides changed. Her father might agree with Hayden on one issue, and then Joshua on the next.

_And the one job I have is so boring!_ Lara growled to herself. Alvis had to have the most unexpressive face, or the best card face.

Pelleas snapped his fingers, and everything stopped. Lara nearly glanced down at her father when he said, "Don't move. We're in a speed bubble."

Lara stiffened, "How come?"

"The next issue is the reason why I originally arranged this meeting," Pelleas murmured. "What I am about to say could have…drastic impacts. Now, I want you to watch Alvis carefully."

"What are you going to say?" Lara asked.

"You'll see. Get ready to cough," Pelleas said. He snapped his fingers, and father and daughter alike began to cough to cover what would seem like hurried dialogue to the other people in the room.

Hector quirked an eyebrow at them, but said nothing. He knew.

Pelleas leaned forward, his entire disposition turning darker, "We have one final topic to discuss before we end this meeting for the night."

"Do get on with it, I am quite tired," yawned Joshua. Zephiel and Hayden both glared at their fellow King.

"The murder of Uther, King of Ostia," Pelleas declared.

The Kings ceased all movement. They stared at the High King, expressions shifting quicker than Lara could read. Surprise. Disgust. Arrogance. Suspicion. Was that dread? Anger—

"I thought that Lord Uther died of illness," Alvis replied, his face as neutral as ever.

"No," Hector shook his head. "I received word from my wife. The person we have investigating the death has confirmed it was the work of poison."

Zephiel smashed a gauntlet onto the table, "Do you mean to accuse someone here?"

"No," Pelleas said. "I mean that one of you are guilty. I do not know who it is, but I will find out."

"What reason would we even have to kill Lord Uther?" Hayden asked, looking uncomfortable as Pelleas doubted him.

"Lord Uther and my father united this continent from seven Kingdoms into a Kingdom of Valm," Pelleas said. "They took everyone who fought them out of power. All of you are Kings because of those two men. Yet when I think on it, I can see a reason for each of you to kill the King of Ostia."

"So what is your plan? Throw us in the dungeons until you find out who?" Eltshan asked, his hand on his sword.

Pelleas stood up, "No. But you will all remain here, in Excelsum. Once my aid has returned with evidence, then you may all leave. Except of course, for which ever of you it was who killed Uther."

"This is madness!" Eltshan stood up. "I am a King! You cannot stop me from leaving!"

Pelleas leveled his gaze at Eltshan, "I can, and I will. If you resist right now, I will show you the same compassion my father had for you predecessor."

Lara saw the serving girls tense.

The two Kings locked gazes and stood silently, having mental battle of sorts. Finally, Eltshan turned in disgust, "Fine. I am leaving to my chambers. I trust I can do that,  _High King?_ "

"Go," Pelleas said. The King of Agustria left without another word. Alvis followed him, seeming more contemplative than angry.

"You play a dangerous game," Hayden said, standing. "Watch yourself. I expect you to meet with me very soon about this."

"I shall," Pelleas.

Hayden exited, Innes close behind him.

Joshua burst out laughing, "My my, Pelleas, you are a gambler. We shall have to play sometime. I'm very interested in what will happen next. Until the next time, try to stay alive until we can play a game of chance."

With that, the King of Jehanna left the room.

Aside from Hector, only Zephiel remained. He looked at Pelleas with approval, "You know, I have thought you unfit for the role of High King for the longest time. I thought you lacked the balls to do what you had to."

"And now?" Pelleas responded.

"You've got guts," Zephiel smirked. "I have a proposal that you might be interested in. Come by and see me later."

"Did you kill him?" Pelleas asked.

Zephiel stopped, "No. But I know only evidence will sway your mind as to who killed Lord Uther. Do remember, that I was friends with Uther for a long time. I am not a man to throw away something like that just for a plot. I am not Alvis."

Pelleas laughed, "I'll meet with you tomorrow if Hayden doesn't track me down."

"Post a good guard tonight, High King," the King of Bern advised. "A knife might be waiting for your back."

**『』**

When Ike finally stopped running, he fell to his knees and panted like a dog.

No one had followed him. Of that, he was certain. The massive sword he'd carried for the past two hours fell to the ground.

Ike was grateful that the Valmese had taken his armor upon imprisoning him. That would have made running rather troublesome.

Picking up the sword, Ike knew he had to go on. There was a bridge on the far side of the plateau that would allow Ike to cross and get out of the canyon. There the ground would be flat, and easier to navigate than crossing bridges from plateau to plateau.

Ergo, that was what Ike did. But when he left the canyon itself and had begun to walk back to Fort Obice, he saw something.

Something that didn't bode well. Not at all.

"Oh Naga…" Ike whispered.

There were legions of them. As far away as they were, Ike could see the rows, formations and the sheer functionality of an army.

An army of Fiends.


	17. Malicious Intents

**Chapter 17  
Malicious Intents**

**『』**

Marisa groaned as her eyes opened. The flood of light blinded her, causing the woman to slam her eyes shut again.

Beside her, the person sitting chuckled, "Glad to see you've returned to the living, Lady General."

Marisa opened her eyes, this time prepared for the onslaught of brightness. She turned to see a rather pretty woman sitting on a stool, watching over her.

"My name is Lucius," she said. "I'm a priest in the Church of Naga."

Priest.

Priest?

This person was a man?

Lucius had long flowing blond hair, the kind Marisa would expect on a woman. That, combined with his soft features made him look more like a priestess than a priest.

Ignoring that particular point about the man, Marisa asked, "What happened?"

"As I understand it, you drank a goblet of wine that was poisoned. Thanks to the fast work of Master Canas, he was able to purge the poison from your body," Lucius recounted. "I stepped in to make sure his harsh methods hadn't damaged your body."

"Thank you for that," Marisa responded, sitting upright in the bed. The blanket fell down, and Marisa immediately shivered. Her longcoat was draped across a chair in the room, and her armor left her sides bare. That let the cool air pierce where her coat had previously kept her warm.

"Don't thank me, thank Naga. It is by her grace that you were saved," Lucius deflected.

"Praise to her name," Marisa recited the age-old response.

Sensing the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, Lucius asked, "Are you not a believer?"

"Pardon me, but it's hard to believe there's someone up there looking out for us when I'm involved in war so heavily," Marisa replied. "I'd like to, but it's not an easy thing."

A hand rested on her shoulder, and Marisa swung her head to lock eyes with Lucius. The priest began, speaking lowly, "Naga is a forgiving god. You must try your best to see past the blood and death to observe Her majesty. But do not worry, for Naga is thankful for your work. The Valmese wish to abolish our version—the right version—of the faith in favor of theirs. You are what stands between them and that goal. Naga will welcome you in the afterlife."

"That's reassuring," Marisa said, not entirely sure if she was being honest or not.

"I'm sure you have much to think about," Lucius smiled. "I will leave you to your thoughts. Do get some rest, Lady General."

"Wait!" Marisa ordered, looking much more alert. "Where is everyone else? I though Lloyd would at least want to see me."

"Ah," the priest mumbled. "Well…something has come up. There's a battle in our very near future."

Marisa's eyes turned dark, "Sit down, Lucius, and tell me exactly what is happening."

**『』**

"You really weren't joking, Ike," Lloyd said in horrified wonder. Legions of Fiends marched, now under a mile away. Mogalls flew above the army, their eyes all glowing with purple light. Rows upon rows of Wights walked with spears, swords, axes and bows. Mauthedogs ran, weaving in and out of the Wights as they snarled. Baels, monstrous spiders that towered over the average human, shook the ground as their legs hit the dry earth.

"I wish I had been," Ike replied.

Hugh brought a hand up to his chin thoughtfully, "You know, I don't think this has ever happened in the history of Mira. We're going to get fucked."

"Indeed, it's never happened before," Canas followed up. "But we're not without hope. Wights are violent creatures. They'll attack anything they see, and can only be controlled by a dark mage of powerful qualities."

"So you think there's a dark mage within that army who is controlling every Wight?" Lloyd asked.

"Quite right. And if we can kill it…"

"Then the Fiends would tear each other apart," Hugh finished.

"And then we can go back to killing each other," chuckled a familiar voice.

Lloyd's sword was out of its scabbard within a second, the estoc's edge at Lucia's neck. The blue haired woman smirked, and pushed the sword away with two fingers, "Relax, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to warn you."

"Explain," Lloyd demanded, bringing the blade back to her neck.

"It's simple. These Fiends don't differentiate between anything, all they see is what their master wants them to kill," Lucia said, her eyes on the estoc. "Ergo, Lord Camus Dorian has sent me to offer you a temporary alliance. We join together and drive the Fiends out."

"You would betray us," Hugh accused immediately.

Lucia shook her head slightly, wary of the sword, "Look out on the plains past the canyon. You'll see our army moving into position to flank the Fiends."

Canas removed a spyglass from his robes and brought it up to the eye that lacked a monocle. Lloyd looked expectantly at the purple haired dark mage.

"She does not lie," Canas said, lowering the device. "The Valmese truly do move to engage the enemy. But I am curious about the soldiers that flood into the canyon."

"Baels and Wights have burrowed and created tunnels that let out in the right wall of the canyon. Our troops will end them, but they will need help," Lucia looked expectantly at Lloyd. She brushed the sword aside in the same manor, and this time Lloyd let it happen. "As I was Vanishing from plateau to plateau, I saw the spiders. I saw Wights riding them. Valm cannot fight these enemies alone, nor can Ylisse. We  _must_ fight together."

Canas and Hugh both looked to their leader for the ultimate decision. Lloyd felt Ike's eyes on his back as well, waiting to potentially determine the course of the war. A fight between three armies, all ready to destroy one another was a surefire way to destroy thousands of lives.

"Why the hell are you taking so long to decide, Lloyd?" barked a voice that had a layer of exhaustion behind it.

"Why are you not resting, Marisa?" Lloyd frowned, distracted from his decision by seeing the Mantled General hobble towards him, leaning on her flamberge's sheath.

"That's not the problem," waved Marisa, dismissing his comment. "The point is we need to side with Valm and fuck these Fiends in their asses."

"They're our enemies!" Lloyd exclaimed. "They poisoned you!"

"And you think I can't tell that?" retorted Marisa, a feral growl rising in her tone. "I will personally question and carry out Orson's sentence. But in the face of  _that,_ " Marisa pointed at the army of Fiends, "I'm willing to put aside my hatred in favor of surviving."

"Tch," Lloyd closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, "We march out in fifteen minutes. Rouse every soldier! Canas, I must have a word with you on dividing our forces."

"Excellent," Lucia said, disappearing to presumably rejoin her army.

"And you!" Lloyd turned on Marisa. "Get back to your bed, and rest. You can't even stand, let alone fight."

"I can fight, you short sighted—"

Marisa's anger ceased as Lucius (Whom had followed behind her) cast a spell from his Sleep Staff. "I'll take her back," the priest said as he caught the woman when she collapsed.

"Naga damn this chaos," muttered Lloyd. He looked around to see that none of the soldiers or Generals near him had moved. "Well, what the fuck are you waiting for! You heard the General, let's fuck these Fiends!"

**『』**

"We just got back, and now there's a damn battle going on," Klein swore as he slipped on boots. Briggid was in a similar state of hurry and dress.

"You're just angry because we didn't get much sleep," Briggid replied, adjusting her orange shirt. "Even if we did get in bed quite early."

"That's as much your fault as it was mine," Klein replied, buttoning his shirt.

Briggid took a moment to meet Klein's eyes, "You weren't complaining last night."

"Naga save me," Klein muttered. He glanced at the bed, unmade and…messy. Hopefully the battle would end soon enough for him to clean up his room.

"If I remember right, you were begging if anything," Briggid laughed, strapping her quiver to her belt.

Klein returned the laughter, "My father is going to hate you."

"Is that an insult?"

"More like a compliment. It's probably one of the reasons I'm enamored with you," Klein supplied, strapping his quiver on.

"You don't care what your father thinks of me?"

"I stopped caring what Baron Lowell thought about anything when I left Ylisstol for the first time in the army," Klein stated.

"Let's go, we can talk about your father later," Briggid said, standing at the door. "We've got Fiends to kill."

**『』**

"Who was able to get into Lord Uther's room—at any time, any day without questions?" Cath asked.

Oswin stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stood guard outside of the late Lord's bedroom. "Only Jakob comes to mind," he replied. "He was the only one I'd let walk by without question. Every other person I would halt and ask Lord Uther about their reason for being there."

"Interesting," Cath said. "Sir Oswin, we may have our assassin."

"You think the assassin to be Jakob?" Oswin said, eyebrows raised. "He fits the part, but his loyalty has never been questioned."

"Most likely," Cath replied. "I just don't know his motive, and it bothers me."

"Hmm, I'll think on it for you," Oswin spoke thoughtfully. "I have known him for a long time, after all."

"If you don't mind, may I ask you to conduct a search of the castle?" Cath asked.

"Certainly," Oswin nodded. "I can do it once my shift ends in an hour."

"Perfect," Cath smiled. She'd been practicing that. It was just the slightest movement of the mouth, but it set people she spoke with at ease.

Had she used to smile commonly? Had it used to mean something?

"Oh, one last thing," Cath paused. "Did you see Jakob enter Lord Uther's room at any time that day?"

Oswin thought for a moment, "Yes, I believe so."

**『』**

It was the third night of practicing when Emmeryn realized two things.

First, she was a quick learner. Stefan would explain a form, or a strike, and Emmeryn picked it up easily. She could tell Stefan was impressed. In days, she had learned as much as she would have in two weeks.

Secondly, Emmeryn was weak.

"You'll never wield a broadsword," Stefan said. As his pupil held his worn sword in a defense position, tip pointed up, the swordsman examined the woman's physique. Emmeryn might have been embarrassed, but the green haired man's looks did not wander.

"You aren't built for the hacking and slashing that broadswords, or any heavy straight swords, are for," Stefan said.

"So I'm not able to wield a sword?" Emmeryn asked, sounding disappointed. She'd grown attached to the idea of fighting her own battles, blade in hand. To be denied such hope just after it had been given to her was cruel.

Heather, Legault and every Hand would have to continue to risk their lives for her, because she was weak. Unable to fight, unable to lead and unable to protect.

"I never said that," Stefan said, taking the sword from her. "I just said you couldn't use a heavy sword. There are lighter swords, meant for precision instead of force."

Stefan picked up the two sticks they had been using for their practicing, "It would be impractical to have you try and fight with my sword. We'll continue with the sticks until I can acquire a sword that will fit your stature."

"Alright," Emmeryn spoke, her hope rekindled.

"If you are to be fighting with speed as your ally, making yourself as hard to hit will be to your advantage since armor will only burden you," Stefan explained. He stepped closer to her and handed her one of the sticks. "Keep yourself small, stand like this," he gripped her shoulders and turned her body so she stood sideways.

Stefan nodded, "Now you are harder to hit. And that is the essence of swordplay." He swung his stick and smacked her hard in the chest.

"What was that for!?" Emmeryn cried out.

"That was you dying," Stefan smirked. "Speed is the essence of swordplay, but surprise  _is_ swordplay. Take advantage of every chance you can get."

Emmeryn grit her teeth and began to attack Stefan. She was going to feel these bruises as they traveled tomorrow.

**『』**

Cath folded her hands in the dark as she waited patiently. The room held no windows and the only source of light was an ether crystal that Cath had deactivated for the time being.

After an hour of waiting, the door finally opened. The man who walked in swore at the lack of light.

"Don't bother trying to turn it on," Cath said. "We can handle this as we are now."

"Who's there?" spoke the man.

"An interested party," Cath dismissed. "I'm not here to talk about me, I'm here to talk about you. Specifically, the poison I found in this room along with a chest of gold."

The man stopped moving. All Cath could hear was her own breathing.

"I'm glad I was able to search your room while I had you distracted," the Morph said. "You aren't the best at hiding things."

The man turned around, running for the door. The orange haired woman waved a hand and the man veered off course and slammed into the wall.

"I suppose I should mention I'm a Coinshot," Cath chuckled, real mirth in her voice. There was a pleasure in one-upping a foe.

Cath reached up to the ceiling and touched the ether crystal. Thankfully it jutted downward and allowed her to touch it with ease. Yellow light filled the room, shedding light on the man pressed against the wall.

Oswin snapped his eyes shut as the bright light assaulted his vision. Cath walked over to the door and knocked on it. In stepped Jakob, glaring at Oswin.

"This is a mistake," Oswin said, his tone level and free of the panic that he'd displayed by attempting to flee. "Jakob must have planted the Jehannan gold to frame me!"

"You're many things, Oswin," Jakob said. "But you are not a person accustomed to this kind of work. Cath never said anything about Jehannan gold."

"Though it turns out that you're right, it is from Jehanna," Cath said. "How did a southern Valmese Kingdom's gold end up in a chest in your room?"

"But what makes me most curious, Oswin," Jakob began, "is your motive. Why kill the Lord you swore you'd protect? Are you not a man of honor?"

"I will not talk," Oswin said.

"We'll see about that," Jakob said, bringing a hand to his chin.

**『』**

"His lordship, Count Novera, is through these doors," the watch captain said, gesturing to dual wooden doors.

"Are you not going to announce me?" Sain looked at the bearded man sternly.

"Uh…apologies, milord," the watch captain mumbled. He walked to the door and pushed one of the large wooden monstrosities open, "Now entering, Lord Abel Rigwald, Heir to the Countship of Rigwald and…um, Loyal Scion of Ylisse!"

Sain pushed the captain aside, striding into the throne room with his retinue walking behind him. Cormag's pain seemed to have died down, but he still cradled his hand carefully.

Sitting on the rugged throne, Count Novera watched the four walk down towards him. As Sain approached, he could see that Nolan Novera shared no characteristics with any nobles he was familiar with. He wore thick furs the color of black while holding a greataxe in his hand. His muddy hair was ungroomed while his beard was trimmed neatly.

"Count Novera," Sain spoke, kneeling before the Feroxi Lord. "I beg your hospitality, as one of noble blood to another. I have been driven from Ylisse by Valmese and have turned to your generosity for aid."

Nolan gazed at them, and then focused on Cormag. "What happened to him?" he gestured with his free hand.

"An agent of Valm tried to assassinate me. Sir Cormag protected me at the cost of his hand," Sain explained.

Nolan thumped his axe against the ground, "Bartre, take this man to the healers' quarters. Have him looked after."

A huge man grabbed Cormag by the shoulder and began to drag him along. Sain suspected that it was just because the man was a bit too enthusiastic.

"Lord Novera, I—"

Nolan held up a hand to cut of Sain. "Any enemy of Valm, is a friend of mine. You will address me as Nolan, and I will call you Abel. Deal?"

"Deal," Sain agreed.

"So fled your lands because of the Valmese invasion, correct?" Nolan asked.

"Yes," Sain answered. "And it turns out we were pursued by an assassin. We fought him off once, but he escaped before we could finish him."

"I apologize that this has happened in my city," Nolan bowed his head. "Despite this being the capital of Ferox, this is in no way our strongest city. Our armies, and every able bodied man and woman are south fighting the war at the Longfort."

"How goes the fight against the Valmese aggressors?"

"Poorly," grunted Nolan. "The red bastards broke through the Longfort only days ago. Our armies have fled to our only real stronghold, a fort one hundred miles south of Ferus. We'll make our final stand there."

"Final stand? But surely the might of the Feroxi is not something to be taken lightly," Sain responded.

Nolan laughed, the sound filling the hall with more warmth than the bodies within it, "Aye, we are a fierce bunch. But General Steelwind…he's something else. In the long history of Ferox, the Longfort has never been broken. At least, until now."

"Will you leave to fight?" Sain asked.

"Naga, no," snorted Nolan. "I may preside over the capital of Ferox, but I am the gamemaster of the arena. I cannot leave, or else my people will revolt."

"The Feroxi take their fights seriously," Sain nodded. "I saw a fight before we were attacked. A fight between two Mantled, actually."

"Ha!" Nolan exclaimed. "Saw my Lasher, the Arulian, did you?"

"Indeed. She was quite fierce," Sain said.

"She's one of my fighters," Nolan proclaimed proudly. "After she was sentenced to fighting in the arena, I personally claimed her. Won me lots of money, she has."

"You're a betting man, then?"

"Wager on her every time," Nolan said. "Today I bet twenty thousand on her. Knew she'd win."

"I'd even say it wasn't much of a contest," Sain chuckled.

"Tell me, Abel, are  _you_ a betting man?" Nolan asked, leaning forward in his throne.

"I am partial to games of chance," Sain admitted. "I enjoy the thrill."

"How about you and I have a contest then?" Nolan suggested. "I saw how Sir Cormag's hand was. To keep himself held together like he did, that was something. I like warriors who can take injuries without whimpering like a brat.

"How about he fights my Arulian, no Mantles?" Nolan grinned. "If I win, I take that fancy sword your servant has at his side."

Sain followed Lord Nolan's eyes to the Avvenire at Matthew's belt. "And if I win?" Sain asked, turning back to the Count.

"What do you desire?" Nolan stroked his beard.

"I could use another guard," Sain murmured, thinking. "How about your Arulian joins my guard detail as I continue on my way?"

Nolan's eyes narrowed, "What're you playing at?"

"That sword has a great deal of value to my house, Nolan," Sain replied, his face passive. "I do not wish to risk it, but if I have to, I'd like something nice in return."

Nolan curled his bottom lip, his head turning downwards in thought. He looked up and belted out a laugh, "Ha!" He slammed the butt of his axe against the ground, "Ha! You're bold, Abel. Had I known Ylisseans weren't weak pricks like I thought they were, I would have reached out to your country years ago!"

"House Rigwald has always been a strong family," Sain smirked. "We are made of sterner stuff than the rest of the nobles."

"Aye, that you are. Most wouldn't even hold a weapon, much less fight a Valmese assassin off," Nolan said. "I accept these terms. We'll have the match in two days, that way your knight can recover properly. I wouldn't want it to be an unfair fight."

"Can you assure that your fighter won't use her Mantle?" Sain asked, curious.

Nolan nodded, "That would be my Mantle. I'm a Nihil, I cancel out others' Mantles." The Count of Ferus grinned, "Now I don't think you've introduced me to these two behind you. Especially this pretty one."

Sain took a step to the side, giving Nolan a better look, "These are my two attendants, Matthew, and Leila. They're husband and wife and have served me loyally throughout my life."

"Pity," Nolan shrugged, "that they're married. I would've liked to show her a good time—the Feroxi way."

"Some women just are unobtainable," Sain sighed. "I know the feeling, Nolan."

"Walk with me," Nolan declared spontaneously. "Allow me to show you and your retinue my castle."

Sain blinked, "As you wish, milord."

**『』**

"I don't like this," Igrene whispered. "There're too many people, they might see us."

"Hush," Heather murmured. "I'm trying to pay attention."

Ylisseans mobbed around the large square at the heart of the city. Guards stood at arranged intervals, creating a circle to keep the civilians out.

Situated directly in front of the massive decorative fountain was a wooden structure. A noose hung from the overhanging stake. Ten guards had stationed themselves in front and on the sides of the pinnacle of the execution.

Heather and Igrene watched from above, laying so as to hide themselves from the watchful eyes of the soldiers.

A crier stood up onto the structure, "His lordship, Zealot of House Solidor, Overseer of Ylisstol and its surrounding lands, has called you all here today to witness what happens when enemies of Valm try and raise chaos!"

Two armored Valmese walked a dour man up to the noose. He wore black, leaving only his face visible. Heather recognized him immediately.

"That's Chad, one of the Queen's Hands," the blonde said to her cousin. "How did this happen?"

"Listen, they might say," Igrene replied.

"The charges, are as followed," the crier continued. "Treason against Valm. Insurrection. Thievery. Sabotage. Murder. Crimes such as these are punishable by death."

"We've got to help him," Heather said, her muscles tensing as she prepared for action. "I can't leave a Hand to die."

"You will do no such thing," Igrene said.

Heather glared at her companion, "You think you're going to stop me?"

"I understand you want to save your friend, but look," Igrene waved a hand. "There's too many guards. Even if you didn't die in a minute, they'd still kill Chad before you could reach him."

"Chad gave his loyalty to his Queen, and now he's about to pay for it," hissed Heather. "I refuse to bow down and let a friend die."

"I don't think your Queen would want you to get yourself killed, even for a friend. If you jump down there, you  _will_ die," Igrene snapped.

Heather swore, and backed down. Her fists clenched to the point of drawing blood from her hands. Igrene merely gave her look that said, 'Really?'

The Valmese slipped the noose around Chad's neck.

The Shadowstrider lay her hand on the roof, and felt the shadows ripple. Maybe she couldn't go and save Chad herself, but she could still try.

Heather had to be careful to keep her familiar out of sight. The mass of shadows slithered down the side of the building, evading every gaze and finding comfort in the shadow of a guard.

The crier spoke again, "Naga teaches us that every dying man and woman deserves to have their final words be heard. Prisoner, have you anything left unspoken?"

Chad leaned his head up, "Like crows, we protect. We remember. We hunt. We survive, like crows." He let his head fall, accepting what was to come.

Heather paused in her work, the line of the Hands' oath startling her. With new resolve, her familiar zipped into the shadow of the fountain. It drew closer to the structure that Chad waited for death upon.

A guard pulled the trap door. Chad fell through, and began his fight against the noose.

"Fuck!" Heather shouted, uncaring as to whether she was heard. Her familiar rose from the shadows, taking her image, and ran for Chad.

Civilians screamed at the sight of a black demon and ran, fleeing the scene. Guards charged it, their spears and swords raised to hit the familiar with everything they had.

The first soldier lanced into doppelgänger with his sword in her back. Heather's familiar fell to the ground, unable to take such a hit.

Chad's body stopped moving.

**『』**

"I hope you didn't do anything stupid," Faval growled, glaring at his daughter.

Heather barely glanced at him, "I didn't do anything you wouldn't do. Now I'm going to go visit my friend, Lissa. Call if you need me."

The Baron's daughter exited the room, leaving Faval and his niece Igrene alone in the meeting room. All of the revolutionaries had departed earlier to take care of other matters.

"Dammit," grumbled Faval. "She never listens. Why did Naga choose her to be my daughter instead of you, Igrene?"

"I suspect the same reason she allowed Valm to attack us," Igrene shrugged, brushing her yellow hair off her large chest. "She has a plan."

"Now you sound like my son," Faval murmured, taking a sip of wine from the goblet he'd neglected for the entire meeting earlier. "He's a dreamer. Thinks things are better as long as Naga's name is on your lips."

"Your son took up a noble calling, becoming a priest," Igrene mentioned.

Faval's harsh laugh occupied the room, "Bah, he turned his back on his noble blood. My other son is fighting a war he likely won't come back from. And now my daughter turns her back on me."

"She despises how you turned into a manipulator," Igrene explained. "She confided in me once."

"Bet that was a long time ago," Faval chuckled. "But Heather is right, I am a manipulator. My friend, the late King Cornelius, did many good things for the realm. And then I spent the next decade cleaning up the messes his daughter created.

"I'm an old man now. I can't wield a bow any longer, so bribes and blackmail are my weapons. I'll piece this realm back together no matter what, even if I must make King Chrom a figurehead. I loved Cornelius as a brother, and I refuse to tarnish the legacy he left any longer."

"Let me join you," Igrene said.

"What?"

"I can be your weapon, your bow in your old age," Igrene explained. "And perhaps in time, you can make me your heir."

Faval leaned back, and took a sip of wine, "You've got guile in you, and I'm impressed. While my daughter is a Hand, I doubt she'd ever try what you just did.

"But for me to make you my heir, you'll need to prove yourself to me first."

"How so?"

"How well can you keep a secret, Igrene?"

**『』**

"The best I could find was a Baronetess, though I'm not sure it's correct," Lissa said. "Seems like there haven't been many female daughters of Barons."

"But no one ever thought to create a proper title for a daughter of a Baron?" Heather cocked her head.

"Doesn't seem so," Lissa said, grabbing her cane. She set her other hand atop the one on the cane and pushed herself up with little effort. Her muscles were no doubt used to it.

"That's Wyvernshit," Heather said, disturbed.

"Though I can't confirm the validity of this book," Lissa gestured to the worn tome on the ground beside her chair. "The proper title may actually a Baronetess."

"Baronetess Heather Lowell," breathed the Hand. "I can get used to it."

"Care to accompany me on a walk?" Lissa asked, already walking towards the door. She moved with grace, despite her inhibition.

"Sure," Heather said, leaping up and opening the door for the Princess. Outside, the master servant Frederick stood at attention.

"Heather and I are taking a walk, Fred," Lissa spoke. "You're welcome to accompany us at a distance."

"Milady, I am honored," Frederick bowed. He fell in behind the two noblewomen and kept silent.

Heather turned her head to look at the butler, "You said he was your protector?"

"Yes. He never lets me out of his sight," Lissa smiled. "I am very grateful for his service."

"Her highness honors me beyond my gratitude, she deserves better," Frederick bowed while walking, and made it look natural.

"I can't seem to get him to stop being so humble," Lissa laughed, reaching the stairs. She began to make her descent, Frederick rushing ahead to help her down.

Heather turned her head to the meeting table to see her father and Igrene talking in whispers. Faval Lowell cast her a glance.

The Hand instinctively gripped one of her knives.

"We need to watch them carefully," Glen said, whispering in her ear.

Heather almost jumped, forgetting the benefit of having the Prima at her side.

"Trust me Glen," she murmured. "I am watching them."

**『』**

Pelleas accepted the wine from one of Zephiel's servants graciously. He brought the goblet up to his lips and took a sip before the thought of poison even occurred to him.

"Relax, I know we're Kings of Valm and paranoia is essential, but use your brain. How could I get away with poisoning you?" Zephiel chuckled, taking the seat across from Pelleas.

"We're all very good at what we do, Zephiel," Pelleas murmured. "I'm sure you could figure out a way."

"Probably," shrugged the King, still wearing his armor. He unbuckled his gauntlets and set them on the table that stood between the two Kings.

Pelleas leaned back, still supporting the wine goblet in his hand, "So what does the King of Bern want to speak with me about?"

"Aside from Hector, you haven't got many friends," Zephiel observed. "Hayden is friendly to you, but he wasn't pleased with that meeting last night. None of the others are eager to help the one who keeps them in line."

"Go on."

"I can be your ally," Zephiel proposed. "I won't dance around the offer. Help me keep Eltshan in line, and I'll help you find which of them killed Uther."

Pelleas took a sip, "What's Eltshan ever done to you?"

"He's eager," Zephiel explained. "He got his crown what, a year ago? Two? Anyway, the kid is jumping at the chance to prove himself. And he keeps clashing with me."

"Example?"

"I discovered a deposit of silver recently. It was on the edge of my lands, so I expected no trouble in claiming it. But when my soldiers and workers arrived, Eltshan's soldiers were already there."

"Hold it," Pelleas set down his goblet and leaned forward, "Was this the border dispute I received a report from Eltshan about? He told me there was a battle with bandits."

"Heh, he would do that," Zephiel chuckled. "I ordered my troops to attack. We fought, my men won. Eltshan knew he had no claim to the mine, so he said it was bandits."

"And here you are taking up the issue with the High King," Pelleas spoke.

"Indeed," Zephiel said. "Eltshan is going to try and find some way to get back at me. Stop him when he does."

"And how can you help me find the assassin?" Pelleas asked.

Zephiel took his wine goblet and took a long drought. Setting it down, he said, "I can give you whatever resources you need from the Kingdom of Bern. I know you have your Morphs, but they retain an independence that you can't control. My covert soldiers will answer only to you—and me, I suppose."

"The other Kings won't let us align so closely. Myself, Hector and you fighting together? Daein, Ostia and Bern uniting could unseat any other Kingdom, or all of them at once. Eltshan wouldn't stand for it, neither would Joshua or the others," Pelleas responded.

"Which is why we must join our houses," Zephiel said.

_So that's how it is,_ Pelleas said, his hand clenching the armrest. "Who do you want me to marry?"

"No one," Zephiel said, grinning in surprise. "I want your bastard to marry my sister."

"Lara and Guinevere?" Pelleas blinked. "Your sister is thirty."

"Stranger marriages have happened," Zephiel shrugged. "Besides, we're Valmese. Two women and two men can marry, so what's the problem with an age difference of thirteen years? It's not like we're Ylisseans, who frown on everything."

"They just take Naga's teachings a bit more by the book," Pelleas said.

"They're also idiots," Zephiel laughed. "Damn them and their rules."

"Back to the topic at hand, I'll marry Guinevere. I don't want to force my daughter into anything," Pelleas argued.

"That would be my first choice, but my sister can't have children. The mages did some tests, and she's barren. And my son back in Bern is only two. Ergo, your bastard is the only choice," Zephiel said. "I'm sorry, but it is the only way if you want my support."

"I'll think on it," Pelleas said lightly. "And even if I agree, Lara will have to as well. I refuse to force my daughter into a marriage she despises."

"You're a better father than I shall ever be," Zephiel murmured. "I hope your bastard realizes that."

**『』**

"Sorry I'm late," Lara apologized, joining the meeting her father had called half an hour ago.

"We haven't started yet, since it concerns you," Pelleas dismissed. "Take a seat."

Within the chamber behind the throne room, Lara took a seat across from her father at the middle of the table. On her left was King Hector and on the right was Rennac's spy Leen. Across from Leen sat Rennac.

"So what is this important issue that caused you to call a meeting on such short notice?" Lara asked, having the only cheerful disposition in the room.

"Your marriage," Pelleas sighed.

Lara fell silent.

"I just met with Zephiel, and he has proposed that I have Lara marry Guinevere, his sister. Then we will help each other out, where I keep Eltshan in line while Zephiel provides the resources we need to discover the one behind Uther's assassination," Pelleas explained.

"I'd like to refuse, but I can't trust my Morphs enough to handle this alone," Pelleas continued. "Therefore, I need another element, and that would be Zephiel's covert soldiers."

"Not to mention an alliance would provide us with economic and militaristic stability," Rennac weighed in. "The recent reports of Alvis' actions worry me. Granbell is quickly turning to military funding and aggression. Bern's support would make him think twice about attacking."

"But do we truly need Zephiel? He's a snake," Hector argued. "The might of Ostia is not to be questioned."

"Ostia is on par with Bern," Rennac nodded, accepting Hector's interjection.

"But Daein is not," Leen spoke up. "Milord, all of your best Generals are across the sea fighting a war. We do not have any of the Cornerstones to fight for us. If we had Steelwind, or Lords Camus and Sirius we could stand with Ostia."

"I concur," Pelleas said. "And some of Ostia's best are there as well. We need assistance."

"What of Hayden? Could he not help us?" Hector asked.

"Perhaps," the High King admitted. "But he was not happy with the prospect of me accusing one of the Kings of assassinating Uther."

"Not to mention Hayden is a peacemaker, not a soldier," Rennac added in. "He doesn't run an army like we do, or Zephiel does."

"Pelleas," Hector leaned forward, looking his longtime friend in the eye. "Would you really force your daughter into a marriage?"

"Do you think I want to?" Pelleas snapped. "Lara is my daughter. I know you would never want to force Lilina into a marriage. I am the same way."

"Then do something about it!" Hector said, exasperated.

Pelleas slammed a fist on the table, "What do you think we're discussing here?"

"I'll do it."

All eyes shifted to Lara.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy to marry a woman who's nearly twice my age," Lara said. "But I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Pelleas asked.

"It's for the good of the realm," Lara said. "We could have a civil war if I don't do this."

"You have one hell of a daughter, milord," Leen observed.

**『』**

Brenya brushed aside a Wight with wind, sending the Fiend clattering into a pile of tinted purple bones. The Cornerstone snapped her fingers, and the remains caught fire.

"This is ridiculous," Brenya huffed, her good arm waving again to sweep more Wights away with magic.

A white figure disappeared and reappeared between the ranks of Wights, smashing their skulls with her broadsword. Lucia vanished as soon as one of the Wights tried to stab her.

Her fellow Cornerstone appeared beside her, her breath ragged, "We're making slow progress."

"All our men are dead," Brenya said flatly.

"Take what you can get," grinned Lucia. She vanished before Brenya could answer.

The sage threw her hand into the air, launching a fireball above her head. Hopefully someone, Valmese or Ylissean, would notice.

A Wight approached her, its armor barely hanging on. Unlike its brethren, it bore no weapons.

"Kiiiiiiilllllllll…." the Wight hissed, its jaw hanging open.

"You can talk?" Brenya blinked.

"I wiiiiiiilllllll kiiiiillllllllll….." the Wight replied. It raised a hand, and its boney fingers began to glow.

Brenya's eyes widened as she narrowly ducked out of the path of the dark magic spell. The Wight spoke no words, nor did he carry a tome. By all logical reasoning, the skeleton's spell should not have worked, or had any power in it.

The spell crashed into the ground behind Brenya, devouring the sandy earth. She narrowed her eyes at the Fiend, and held up her hand.

Dark tendrils burst from the ground around the Wight. They pierced and broke bones, absorbing the monster and vanishing back into the ground.

"Careful," spoke a familiar man. "These Fiends have been tampered with. They're something else, something new."

"Hello, uncle," greeted Brenya with a sneer.

"Ah, so it is as I suspected," Canas nodded. "It is a shame we are on opposite sides."

"…That's it? That's all you have to say?" Brenya snarled, whipping her hand at three Wights, and rendering them helpless with lightning.

"I have no memories of my brother anymore, Lady Brenya Cross," Canas replied. "And you were only an infant when I parted from Valm with my wife. I wish I had something to say, but I have nothing."

Canas clapped his hands. A glyph appeared in front of a Wight. It evaporated, along with the Wight.

"But I have brought some friends," Canas added, allowing himself a slight grin.

As if cued, the Shepherds burst through the lines of Wights with Captain Raven at the head. Their swords, lances and axes demolished skeletons. The three hundred warriors thundered through to back up Lucia.

"I have no wish to kill you, niece," Canas said. "And just this once, I'd like to fight alongside you."

"You say that, but you took my hand," Brenya growled. She held up the stump of her arm. "I call that hypocrisy!"

Canas glanced at her and waved a hand. Dark magic rose from the ground and gathered around Brenya's arm. She gasped, and swung it in an attempt to get the magic off her.

The black mass hit the ground, but where it had left her arm was a hand. It was a black texture, akin to obsidian. And it  _moved_ when Brenya wanted it to.

"I may have no memories of my brother and me together, but we worked on wondrous things," Canas said. "My knowledge is intact, thankfully."

Brenya tried to find words, be they thanks or jibes.

"I suggest wearing gloves," Canas said lightly, walking forward into the fray.

**『』**

"Now Hugh, can you tell me the weakest part of a Bael?" Pent asked, holding a fireball in his hands. It slowly grew, getting hotter.

"The head? I don't know, they didn't teach us Bael fighting at the academy," Hugh shrugged. Their soldiers met Wights that had burrowed into the canyon in battle. The Baels were slowly coming, walking slower than the skeletons.

"The head is a good guess," Pent nodded. He sounded like one of Hugh's older professors, who had tried to turn every single thing into a teaching moment.

Spreading his hands, the fireball flew at the Bael's head. The massive spider barely reacted as the searing blaze struck its face.

"But the head is the wrong guess," Pent said, shaking his head. He smirked maniacally, "Want to see the proper way to kill a Bael?"

Without waiting for an answer, Pent began to run forward. Soldiers parted as the Mage General ran through towards the Bael.

Some of the Ylisseans stabbed their weapons in the air, and followed Pent in his charge.

Pent met the first of the Baels and dodged the sharp leg that the Fiend attacked him with. Without a care, the mage leapt under the spider. Rolling with his momentum, he ended face up on the ground. Hands raised, Pent scorched the belly of the Bael.

Without waiting for the result, Pent rolled aside. The Bael caught fire and fell to the ground, dead.

"Herd the Baels together and let the mages deal with them!" shouted Pent. He brushed the dirt off of his fine clothes, slightly perturbed that his cape had been torn.

"Milord, look!" cried a Ylissean.

The Valmese finally made it far enough into the canyon to assist with the Fiends. But as they arrived, out from the burrow holes crawled a spider  _three times_ the size of a Bael.

"Oh, Naga," Pent whispered. "An Elder Bael."

**『』**

"All wings, to me!" Farina shouted. "Dive low to the ground, but do not stop moving! Don't endanger your lives needlessly!"

On the backs of the Pegasi were Lord General Lloyd and his strike team. Lalum, whom rode tandem with Farina, could see a dark aura coming from the center of the Wight force.

Across the sky, Trabant's Wyvern Riders did the same. They had greater numbers, and Wyverns could carry a greater load on their backs. Farina's women carried around one hundred and fifty soldiers into battle, Trabant's carried over two thousand.

Farina dreaded the day her fliers did battle with Trabant's again.

With a swoop, the Pegasus Knights flew low. Lord General Lloyd leapt off first, followed by Generals Klein and Briggid as well as Ephraim and Eirika. Other mages, armored knights and spearmen joined their leaders. They created a circle quickly, and Lalum was the last to jump.

"Stay well, Lalum," whispered Farina. He white steed flew off to join Trabant's force and assist on the other side of the battle.

**『』**

Deep in the Fiend army, an almost human served as a hive mind. Thousands of Wights flooded his consciousness, and he controlled every one of them.

"Quite admirable," spoke his companion, who stood several feet behind him.

"A Hunter's power is not to be questioned," said the other Hunter. What was his name? Hundreds of minds joined his, shredding his sense of identity to pieces. Perhaps later he could put it back together.

"Knoll," asked, Levin, his companion. Was that his name? It had to be, no one else was in the vicinity.

"Yes?" rasped the man. The purple hood of his Hunter cloak obscured his face. Only a few locks of his white hair were visible.

"I am leaving. Tormod has something he wants me to see. He claims he's figured out how to free the rest of the Hunters," Levin said. "I trust you can handle this…eradication?"

"Yes, now leave. You distract me," Knoll muttered, his voice sounding more like a Wight's than his own.

Levin nodded, and vanished in the wind.

**『』**

Sirius had rarely hunted. He was simply not a fan of chasing down prey and stabbing it after whatever unfortunate beast had become tired.

But facing down the Elder Bael made him wish he had. Then he'd have known…some way to kill it.

The Cornerstone drew his blade, a heavy broadsword. Not as nice as the one the blue haired Ylissean had run off with, but it would do.

Normal Baels had a brown and grey color scheme. But an Elder Bael had a red and grey scheme, and its red talon-like feet came crashing towards Sirius.

The masked man leapt out of the way just in time for another of the Bael's feet to swing at Sirius. The brown clad soldier held up his sword and blocked the strike with the flat of his blade.

Amazed the metal hadn't broken, Sirius pushed back against the spider's leg, sending it scuttling back.

"Crazy, isn't it?" the Mage General walked up to Sirius. "Who could have ever expected to see Elder Baels down here?"

"They typically reside in mountains, do they not?" asked Sirius.

"Indeed," said the Ylissean. "Shall we teach it a lesson for coming into our lands?"

"Got any ideas how?" grunted Sirius. "Because that thing's skin is tough."

"I can kill it," the General said. "But with a creature this big and intelligent, I need a big spell. And that requires time."

"Naga fuck me," Sirius muttered. "Get going on your spell."

He angled his sword toward the ground while holding it in both hands and began to run. The Elder Bael, long recovered from Sirius' attack, wasted no time in taking the first strike.

The spider's talons struck one by one, missing the masked man by less and less each time. Sirius ran around the spider's right, taunting the creature into turning itself and following him.

The Ylissean General ducked underneath the behemoth and prepared. The Bael likely didn't know it only had minutes to live.

Though at this rate, Sirius had scarce time left in his life. One of the spider's attacks grazed his arm, and another had collided with his broadsword, shattering it.

Thankfully, the Mage General finished his spell and shot fire straight into the Bael's belly. The inferno smashed into the Fiend with the most force Sirius had ever seen behind a magic spell.

It only made the spider angry.

The Bael swung its talon and knocked the Ylissean off his feet, throwing him fifty feet from where he was.

"Fuck me," Sirius groaned, running at the spider. The Bael turned to go finish off his prey, and Sirius climbed one of the sharp legs.

The skin didn't even feel like Sirius expected, it felt like steel. As hard as it was to climb, Sirius managed without the spider noticing his endeavors.

The Cornerstone shakily stood up on the beast's back. Running towards the head, Sirius fell several times as the Bael's back shook with its steps.

Sirius flipped the broken sword in his hand so that the blade pointed down. The spider finally halted and raised its two front appendages to strike down the Mage General.

The masked man leapt and stabbed the blade straight through the top of the spider's head. The Bael howled, its insectoid screams echoing inside Sirius.

The Fiend fell down, dead. Sirius rolled off as the carcass crashed into the ground.

The Ylissean General stood over him and pointed in the distance, "Ready to do that again?"

Sirius leaned up and saw two more Elder Bael's approaching.

"Shit."

**『』**

Lloyd would have been happy when the Valmese Wyvern Riders dropped off their troops inside the Ylissean circle if he hadn't just seen Lady Eirika stabbed with a spear.

The Wight had slipped by her brother, and stabbed her straight through the back.

Lord Ephraim snapped, and began  _annihilating_ every Fiend that neared his lance. The Valmese, led by Lord Camus, relieved the tired Ylisseans but couldn't get Ephraim away from the front lines. He screamed that he refused to stop until he killed the mage controlling the Wights.

Lloyd sliced a Mauthedog in half, and that was when he saw the man in control.

A purple cloaked mage, surrounded in dark magic, stood guarded by ten Wights. Throwing caution into the wind, Ephraim charged alone.

He fared well for a time, but once the sixth Wight fell, a sword burrowed into his back. The proud Lord fell to his knees, and joined his sister.

"Bring that mage down! Do it now!" screamed Lloyd over the battle.

Klein and Briggid loosened several arrows and eliminated the last four Wights. Lalum, who had been holding off from casting any magic, emptied her entire reserve of ether in one spell.

The result with the largest amount of flame Lloyd had ever seen, that not only killed a hundred of Wights but also scorched the mage to death. His death was so quick he did not even scream.

"Pull back!" shouted Camus. "They're going to go into a frenzy! Pull back and weather the storm!"

The Wights began to tear themselves apart.

**『』**

"Heh, you're good, Captain," Lucia breathed, weakly holding up her sword.

At her back, Captain Raven nodded, "As are you, Cornerstone. You outlived all my Shepherds."

"They were valiant," Lucia complimented. "They will be rewarded in the afterlife."

"I hope so," Raven said. "We might live on, if none of these Wights notice us."

"Guess they got the person in charge," Lucia observed, taking in the sight of thousands of purple skeletons massacring each other as well as any other Fiend they could get their hands on.

Raven said nothing, and Lucia felt his back leave hers. Puzzled, she turned around and was greeted with a broadsword through her heart.

"You're Mantled, and can probably escape here," Raven said. "I'll give Ylisse any advantage I can."

"Dis…honorable…" Lucia weakly let out, her body crumpling into Raven's arms.

"Fuck honor," whispered Raven. He withdrew his sword from the dead Valmese woman, and turned around.

A Mauthedog gritted his teeth at the Captain. Utterly exhausted, Raven cast aside his broadsword and let the Fiend have him.


	18. Mantle of Deception

**Chapter 18  
Mantle of Deception**

**『』**

"…and by Naga's judgement, I sentence you to die," Marisa said, her voice carrying across the crowd. Next to her stood Hugh of all people, helping her remain standing. Canas' dark magic left her body in recover, still trying to regain the full use of her legs. Lucius said she simply needed rest.

"Have you any last words?" she asked, looking down at the rugged man who bent his head over the executioner's block.

"…I did what I did for honor," Orson whispered, bowing his head.

Marisa accepted her flamberge from Hugh. Grimacing as Hugh stepped back, Marisa shakily brought the sword back behind her. The Mantled General's legs wobbled.

Swinging the blade with a grunt, Marisa brought it down on Orson's neck.

**『』**

"Our army numbers just above eleven thousand," Canas said, glancing at the parchment in his hands. "And our spy in the Valmese encampment says they number seventeen-and-a-half thousand."

Marisa snorted as she leaned up in her bed, "Seems like this battle was kinder to us than the Valmese. How fortunate."

Canas sent her a disapproving gaze, "Those were Fiends. Nothing is fortunate about them."

"War is war," Marisa shrugged. "That's how I was taught to fight and think. Now, go on."

The dark mage nodded, not giving away any more thought on the matter, "One of the Cornerstones fell in battle, General Lucia Silver. She was overcome by Fiends, or at least we found her body and many Fiends around her corpse." Canas looked as if he wanted to say more.

"And?" Marisa cued, annoyed.

"We also found the bodies of the Shepherds, including Captain Raven. Ylisse's elite fighting force is completely eradicated. Lord Ephraim and his twin sister also fell in battle," Canas reported.

"Unfortunate," Marisa replied. "I liked Raven."

"My point is, morale is low. Even though we won a battle working with our enemy, we lost three visible figures in our army, not to mention over three thousand casualties," Canas sighed.

A fist knocked on the door to Marisa's room.

"Come in," Marisa said.

Lucius stepped through the door. When he saw that Marisa was not alone, he made to leave, "My apologies, Master Canas. I thought the Lady General was alone."

"Don't apologize," Canas sighed. "I'll take my leave. General, I will continue this conversation with you on a later date."

"Agreed," Marisa said. "Though I suggest you take it up with Lloyd first."

Lucius stepped out of the way as Canas departed where the priest had just entered. The blond man took the seat Canas had occupied. The priest sat carefully, taking effort to make himself comfortable with the cassock he wore.

"You killed a man today," he said, beginning their conversation.

Marisa shrugged, "I kill men every day. It's my job."

Lucius bowed his head, accepting the statement, "The Church feels that this war is justified, since recent rumors say this is the High King of Valm's way of eradicating our version of Nagism. But that is a conversation for another time. Tell me about this man you killed."

"Why?"

"I did ask nicely," Lucius said. "Humor me."

Marisa groaned, "His name was Orson. He was in charge of the fight against Valm before Hugh. But then he turned traitor."

"Why did he do that?" Lucius asked, leaning forward and resting his head on his propped up hands.

"You think I know?" scoffed Marisa. "All I care is that he was a traitor, and for that he deserved to die."

"You would judge a man based on details you do not know?" Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Naga frowns on that."

"To hell with what Naga frowns on," Marisa snapped. "Orson's betrayal led to Ylissean casualties. That is something I can't forgive him for."

"And he died because of your inability to forgive," Lucius spoke. "But how could you judge him correctly when you were not there, nor did you know the circumstances?"

"I knew enough."

"What if I told you he had a son that was taken hostage?" Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly.

Marisa chuckled, "You jest."

"Would it make a difference?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You would have still executed the man because he only wanted to save his son?" Lucius asked softly. "Naga does not teach hate."

"Hatred is human," Marisa said bluntly. "Orson betrayed Ylisse, his men, and me. For that, I brought punishment down upon him myself. 'Let those who order the sentence cast it down themselves,' that's a quote straight from your damn book."

"We as creatures of free will must aspire to be better than hatred," Lucius said. "Cold blooded murder is not a morally good action to commit. Had Orson betrayed you for his own sake, or greed, I would not argue this with you. Naga is merciful, but she is just as well.

"But given that you do not know the reasons, you should not have killed him. It was not justice, it was murder. Your motivation was hatred."

Lucius stood up, "I'll let you think on what I have said. In the meantime, I will pray for you. I'll pray that you see the error in your actions."

**『』**

"Sorry I haven't been able to see you sooner," Lloyd sighed. "I've spent a great deal of time with Master Canas planning our next move. So what was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Lord General, when I was escaping my execution, something strange happened," Ike said. "There was a moment when Sirius had me on the ground that I felt something. It was like my blood turned to ice, and then to fire within moments."

"And what was the outcome of this situation?" Lloyd asked, leaning forward onto his desk.

"This," Ike said, holding his hand out in front of him. The blue haired man's face tensed, and his hand lit on fire.

Lloyd's eyes widened, "Now that is something. My guess is that you Snapped."

"Snapped, sir?" Ike asked.

"You broke whatever it was that held your Mantle in. And I believe, to the best of my knowledge, that you are a Flamewalker," Lloyd said.

Lloyd stood, "This changes things. As of now, you are no longer required to train with the regular soldiers. I order you to figure out your Mantle, and some ways to use it in combat. I'll send Hugh to assist you in a few days, as he is our expert in fire at the moment."

"You are generous, sir," Ike bowed.

"Get up," Lloyd said. "I'm just trying to keep us alive."

**『』**

Brenya held up her new gloved hand and whispered an incantation. The logs below Lucia's body lit, and beginning the funeral pyre. Following her lead, the other mages lit larger groups of corpses alight.

"We lost many," Linus observed, walking up from behind her.

"Yes," Brenya said, not paying the man much attention. Her hand held all of the magenta haired woman's attention. It didn't feel…right. Though it  _was_ made of dark magic.

_Dark magic can only devour,_ whispered Etzel's voice in her mind.

"You have a new hand," Linus said lightly, gesturing to the gloved hand that hadn't been there the previous day.

"Indeed I do," Brenya replied.

Linus gazed at her, trying to discern a meaning from her words. "Congratulations," he decided on saying.

"Quite," the woman turned to face him. "Let's go. Camus wants to meet with all of us and decide a method of action for the rest of this war."

**『』**

Greil stepped in, his appearance haggard. Faval gestured to a seat next to Igrene, "You've interrupted us. Tell us what ails you, and then be on your way.

Greil nodded, sharply taking in breath, "One of the soldiers I'm friends with on the front just sent me word on the war. Fiends attacked in force. The Valmese teamed up with our army to fight them off. There were heavy casualties on both sides, but the attack was repelled."

Faval leaned back, "Interesting. But you look depressed, not excited. What aren't you telling me?"

"Among the casualties were Lady Eirika of Renais, and her brother Lord Ephraim of Renais," Greil whispered.

Baron Lowell blinked, "Interesting…" He stood up and walked to the one window in the meeting room, staring out the narrow view of the street below the building. "Contact my son. Have him give you an analysis of the war. Then assemble all the guards you've been training for me. I need them."

"Yes, milord," bowed Greil.

"Get up and leave us," Faval ordered. The aged warrior left the room quickly to carry out his orders.

Igrene looked at her uncle, "Where does this leave us?"

"Eirika and Ephraim were very popular," Faval chuckled. "The fact that they both went off to fight against the Valmese only increased the people's love for them. We can use that love and turn it into hate."

"What do you mean?" Igrene asked.

Faval scowled at her, "You don't see?"

"No," Igrene shook her head.

_Heather would have seen what I meant. Even Klein would have,_ Faval turned back to the window. He neutralized his expression and said, "We'll spread the word that the Valmese killed our twins from Renais. The public will be enraged, and we will give them an outlet to fuel their hate into."

When Igrene didn't reply, Faval continued, "By showing that Prince Chrom is here to regain the capital, and the country, we'll give the citizens something to hope for. And a target for their hate: Zealot Solidor."

**『』**

When ignoring the Valmese patrolling the city at scripted intervals, Ylisstol almost still looked beautiful.

Heather couldn't ignore their conquerors. Her eyes watched every single red cloaked soldier that she, the Princess and Frederick passed. Glen followed behind Heather, listening to their conversation without making his presence known to Heather.

"I usually walk side streets," Lissa commented. "Less traffic, and I've learned the best hiding places when patrols come out looking for revolutionaries." The Princess' condition caused whatever traffic did go their way to move aside. But other than that, none paid them any more mind that was to be expected.

"How come you're here today?" Heather asked.

"Today I have a reason to walk other than seeing the sun," Lissa shrugged. "I'm meeting someone."

Both Frederick and Heather tensed, but it was the former who spoke first, "Milady, who do you plan to meet? Why have you not spoken of this to me before?"

Lissa frowned, "I have arranged this myself, because I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."

"Lissa, forgive me, but you're sixteen," Heather replied. "You're not of age yet. You cannot do such a reckless move."

"Careful, Heather," Lissa said, her voice chilly for the first time in the Hand's memory. "I am a Princess. You cannot tell me what I can and can't do."

The blonde bowed her head in apology and remained silent.

**『』**

Heather and Frederick stood behind Lissa, letting her sit in the single chair that remained available. The other was occupied by the woman whom had been waiting for them. The single table was directly in the middle of the tavern, surrounded by countless other men and women enjoying a meal.

"Hello, Princess," greeted the red head as Lissa eased herself into the chair. Frederick accepted the cane that Lissa handed to him. "You may call me Morgan."

"I doubt I have to introduce myself," Lissa laughed. Morgan chuckled, and the Princess continued, "But these are my associates, Master Frederick and Baronetess Heather."

"A pleasure," the woman bowed her head.

Dark red hair clung to Morgan's head similarly to a young girl's. Her overall physique was that of a very short, slender woman, making Heather doubt her age more than she already did. On the back of her cloak, a sigil that Heather did not recognize stood out: a square turned on its point with four pointed shapes branching out from each corner.

"Forgive me," Heather spoke up, "but what does the symbol on your cloak mean?"

"Symbol…?" Morgan murmured. Blinking, as if waking up from a daydream, she exclaimed, "Oh! Do you mean the mark?"

"The one on your cloak," Heather repeated.

Morgan grinned, "It's the mark of the Mantle. Only those in my position bear it, and often are the few who know what it means. It's a symbol that has faded away, for the most part."

_It looks identical to the one Matthew had on his hand,_ Heather thought, thinking back to her time at Mount Prism.

"And could you tell me what exactly what your position is?" Lissa asked. "You were unclear on that aspect when contacting me."

"Forgive me," Morgan apologized. "I didn't know whether to trust it in writing. Are you familiar with the Mantled guilds?"

"Who isn't?" Lissa replied. "Whenever a person needs the help of someone with a Mantle, they come to the guilds."

"They go to  _one_ of the guilds," corrected Morgan. "They seldom work together, each competing with one another."

"So what does that make you?" Heather asked.

"I hold the position as leader of all the guilds," Morgan explained. "It's a position that is mostly ignored by every guild. Normally, I hold no power."

Frederick coughed, "I suppose you're about to tell us how this isn't normal?"

"You would be right," Morgan nodded. "Given Valm's invasion, the guilds set aside their differences. I am their leader as of the invasion. Now, the question is what to do with my army of Mantled?"

Heather drew the Prima from its sheath at her side, "If you threaten the Princess…!"

Morgan stared down the blade that now pointed at her. Without a word, she snapped her fingers.

_Every_ person sitting at the tables in the tavern stood up and pulled their weapons on Heather. Swords, axes, bows, lances, even mages. All the men and women had jumped to defend their leader.

"I do not threaten Princess Lissa or Prince Chrom," Morgan declared. "But I do want you to know who is in control here."

Heather hissed, but sheathed her blade. From the corner of her eye, Glen nodded as if to say, 'Good move.'

Morgan's guards sat down and resumed their cover.

"Now that we've established that," Morgan said lightly, "let's get onto the real reason we're meeting. I have an army, and you want a throne."

"I have no desire to rule," Lissa said, holding herself together after the moment when it seemed the end for them. "But my brother will make a fine King."

"Alright," Morgan shrugged, uncaring. "But the point still stands. I have enough Mantled to oust Solidor's soldiers in this city."

"What do you want?" Lissa asked.

"I don't care for anything," Morgan shook her head. "I want this city back under Ylissean rule. But the guilds only care about gold. Their allegiance is to coin."

"But you presume to have complete control over them?" Frederick questioned.

Morgan laughed, "Of course. I pay them, so they listen to me. I told you they don't like working together, but freeing the city and the promise of money is enough for them to cooperate."

"And you would have me just trust you, a woman I've only met for the first time?" Lissa raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You take me for a fool."

"I don't intend for you to trust me that much already," the leader of the guilds replied. "All I ask for is an audience with Prince Chrom and Baron Lowell. The latter, as I've heard, is the backbone of the revolution effort."

_Well informed,_ Heather noted.  _I'll watch out for that._

"Give her the audience," Glen whispered in Heather's ear. "It can't hurt your chances if you're prepared."

Heather blinked, "What's your Mantle?"

"Quite a personal question," Morgan said.

Lissa shook her head, "Heather is right. I will know your Mantle, so that we can meet with mine own protected."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Morgan replied. "Give me your hand. I need to make contact to have it work."

Lissa hesitantly extended her arm and let Morgan touch her hand.

"Once I make physical contact with someone, I can do this," Morgan explained. Her face began to morph into that of a younger girl's.

Into Lissa's face.

"They call it a Mimic Mantle, or a chameleon depending on the part of Mira you're from," Morgan said with Lissa's voice. "I can remember every person I've touched, and that gives me the ability to become them."

"…We will need to be careful if we decide to trust her," Glen said before disappearing for the time being.

**『』**

Cath was sitting in the courtyard when the visitor arrived. His footsteps were quiet and lithe, whispering across the stones as he approached the younger woman.

"You're here quicker than I expected," Cath said without surprise.

Karel nodded, "I was in the area." The Timeseer sat down next to her and resumed his silence. Cath cast him a sidelong look, gazing at his Mantle. Her senses as a Seeker exposed the spiderweb of a Mantle that pulsed with his heartbeat.

"So you caught the assassin. Tell me about it," Karel asked.

"When I arrived here, I examined the body of Lord Uther," Cath recalled. "I found that there was a thin needle embedded in his neck. This was proof of poison.

"I suspected that it was someone close to the King of Ostia," Cath continued. "After all, who can get close enough to a King besides someone with a familiar face? The two potential men were Sir Oswin and Jakob, Lord Uther's master servant.

"I questioned Jakob, thinking him to be the more likely to kill his Lord than the guard sworn to protect said Lord. By the end of our conversation, I thought he had done it."

"But?" Karel prompted.

"But he was a master servant. They take vows that are near the same level as a sworn knight. It bothered me, so I distracted Oswin and searched his room.

"Under a false board beneath his bed in his room, which he had as the leader of Uther's guards, I found a small chest. Inside were the biggest denomination of gold coins from Jehanna. I found this suspicious.

"I told Jakob I thought Oswin had done it, and Oswin that I suspected Jakob. That night, I took Jakob with me and surprised Oswin in his room. The knight gave away that he knew the gold was Jehannan, and that told me all I needed to know."

"But how could you know that Oswin would give away that he was the assassin by accident like that?" Karel asked. "He could have been a better actor than you anticipated."

"True, but Jakob was a very smart man," Cath explained. "He might've planted the money, and I had to be sure. The only way I could think of was this gamble."

"Gamble or not, it worked," shrugged Karel. "I have instructions from Ephidel to bring Sir Oswin back to Excelsum for King Hector's judgement. And I'm bringing you too."

"For what?"

"You're going to be helping the High King with some things."

**『』**

"His Highness King Joshua of Jehanna, Lord of the Desert, awaits you, milord," bowed the servant, opening the door for Rennac.

"You are most kind," Rennac nodded, stepping through the open door.

Clad in the same outfit as he'd had in the meeting, King Joshua sat at a small table in the center of the room. One other chair waited for Rennac.

"Sit," commanded the red haired King.

Rennac complied, easing into the wooden chair. He spoke no words, as it was customary for a King to speak before a commoner.

"The High King did not come to see me himself?" Joshua asked, irked.

"His Highness believed we would get along well, and sent me to give you his apology that your appointment would have to wait," Rennac said.

"Get along well? Why?" Joshua spoke. "Is it because you're a Silvertongue?"

"I can influence people's emotions, but it is not so simple," Rennac explained. "It doesn't make decisions, or make people say certain things. It only dampens or incenses, not create. If you were angry, I could send you on a tirade. If you were happy, I could have you happier than you've ever been. It allows a degree of influence, but not as much as people think."

"In that case, why does he think we'll connect?" Joshua asked.

Rennac reached into the folds of his tailcoat and withdrew a pair of dice, "Care for a wager?"

A wide smirk blossomed on Joshua's face, shedding light on the King's composure, "You know the way to my heart, attendant. I do hope you've brought money."

"The High King let me take some of his own coin," Rennac grinned.

"Ha!" exclaimed the desert King. "Let's see if you are as adept as you appear."

The two gambled through the night, wagering everything from a single coin to possessions of certain value. Had Rennac been a noble in truth, the games might have gone all the way to titles and lands.

Luckily, he wasn't.

"Naga is with me tonight," Joshua grinned, snatching the gold discs that lay on the table. They had moved from simple dice games to knife games and then to card games.

"Indeed, it seems she is," Rennac said, his face withering into a sour frown.

"Don't be ashamed," Joshua consoled. "I am the best gambler in Valm. There is no shame to lose to the best."

"I suppose," Rennac admitted. "But it is shameful to have been beaten so soundly." His pockets were no longer lined with the High King's gold, only a spare button that he had found earlier.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Rennac," Joshua muttered. "You've lasted the longest against me. Everyone else runs out of money at least a few hours before you did. You did well."

"In that case, how about one more bet?" Rennac asked. "Give me a chance to redeem myself. All of the money I played with tonight is your bet."

"And yours?"

"Information."

"…Elaborate," the King leaned forward, curious.

"I can tell you something that will likely change the entire power spectrum in Valm. It might even help you prepare for it," Rennac offered.

"You could be lying," Joshua noted.

Rennac sighed, "Information is my job, milord. I am good at what I do."

"You'll need to sweeten the deal," Joshua said.

"Then I shall tell you a secret of mine in good faith," Rennac said. "Potential blackmail, if you will. That way, if my information doesn't stand to what I've let you believe, you may do what you wish with what I tell you."

Intrigued, Joshua agreed. Soon, all his gold was on the table. Only then, did he say, "So what is this secret you have?"

Reaching up to the top of his tailcoat, he pulled the fabric down to expose the area over his heart. With his other hand, he pulled the cloth so the entire black symbol was exposed.

The mark of Naga. The sign of Ylisse.

"Milord, are you ready to play against a Hand of the Queen?" Rennac asked.

Joshua shuffled the cards.

**『』**

Night poured on. Time dripped by like water from an icicle.

Pelleas could not sleep.

It wasn't a matter of whether he was physically capable of it—he certainly was. But Magister Ephidel had told him staying awake would be the best option for the night. A visitor would come, he'd said.

The High King hoped the mysterious person would turn up soon. Early the next morning, King Hayden demanded to meet with him. And the Slider did not look forward to facing the anger of the Bloodmaker.

Sitting in his study, Pelleas found his gaze drifting to the man on the wall. The largest painting of them all stood stalwart on the wall.

King Ashnard of Daein, Pelleas' father.

There were few times in his life that Pelleas relished the consequences of dark magic. He hadn't thrown himself into them as Lord Etzel had, but he'd sunk into the memory devouring magic. The first ten years of his life had never happened to him.

Other than the scars he bore from his father. Those remained. Those always remained.

Through cruelty and terror, Ashnard had taught his son many things. One above all else rang true, the piece of advice Pelleas had embraced from the very beginning.

Trust Ostia, and no one else.

Horrific as Ashnard was, he and Uther ruled well. They were friends, and brothers in all but blood. The conquerors had the utmost respect for each other.

And a hatred for Bern.

"Father…" whispered Pelleas. "I agreed to Zephiel's deal today."

Silence. But that was preferable to cruelty.

"I know you told me never to trust a Bernese man," Pelleas continued. "But I seem to have already done so."

This time, the blue haired King knew what his father would say. "Turn a bad agreement into an under handed advantage," was a motto Ashnard had lived by.

"I don't trust Zephiel, but I need him," Pelleas spoke. "A war is coming. It might be one between our nations, or it might be the eastern continent against the western. But it will happen."

The painting didn't respond.

The door opened, interrupting Pelleas' conversation with himself. The High King stared at the orange haired woman stepping closer to his desk.

Light from Pelleas' lamp brightened her face. Her golden eyes shinned brighter than stars, reflecting the light.

_Morph._

"Tell me your business, Morph. I hope what I've waited awake here for is worth it," Pelleas said.

"My name is Cath," said the Morph.

Pelleas leaned forward. It almost sounded as if the woman had  _emotion._ Morphs don't have emotions. Ephidel mentioned it constantly.

The woman continued, "I have caught your assassin."

"Go on," Pelleas said, his tiredness receding.

**『』**

"Tell me, Emmeryn, have you someone to fight for?" Stefan asked one night.

"I…the woman I love," the fair haired woman replied, turning her head away to avoid judgement.

Stefan paid it no mind, "Think of her as you fight. You may find it will motivate you. But do not let it distract you. Distractions are the key to your opponent's victory."

"He's right," Legault piped up, gazing into the fire. "Having a person in mind to fight for can mean the difference in battle."

"Do you have someone you think of?" Emmeryn asked.

"I have two people," Legault said. "The first was a woman I fell for in my youth. Things did not work out, and to make a long story short, she ended up dead on my knife as a Hand.

"The other is a man. He and I might have had a future, but the war killed him. I fight for their memories, because they both would have killed me if I got myself killed," Legault laughed humorlessly.

"You two are lucky," Stefan said. "I have none. I am alone in this desert."

"No one at all?" Emmeryn asked, her eyebrows raised.

"I think that is why I have agreed to train you," mused Stefan. "It gives me a new purpose besides guarding the desert."

"Heh, at least you know two more people now," Legault said. "Gives you at least someone to think of."

"Indeed," Stefan trailed off. Blinking, he seemed to realize what he was doing. He picked back up the stick he'd been using.

"Let's continue," Stefan said. "You are making progress. Let's continue to strengthen your skills."

**『』**

Cormag sighed with relief as the healer's careful touch glided across his arm. The bones had been reconstructed into their original state.

"Don't overexert yourself," the healer, Natasha, warned. "That hand could use a day or two of rest."

Cormag chuckled, slowly clenching his mended hand. "I do not think that will be very possible," Cormag shrugged. "My other hand and arm aren't much to brag about."

"What do you mean?" the yellow haired woman asked.

Cormag slowly raised his right arm. It shook as he raised it, and the pain became too great for him when he reached his midchest.

"How did you manage that?" Natasha spoke. "I cannot see any lacerations at all."

"It's a long story," Cormag waved off with his good arm.

"Allow me to take a look at it," Natasha asked, genuinely interested in the man's wounded arm. She set her staff above his right arm and set to work.

**『』**

"You'll need to make sure you act like a couple while you're here," Sain said, glancing around the room Lord Nolan had given for Matthew and Leila.

"Thank you for that," Matthew rolled his eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that you could merely just say we were uninvolved?"

"Oh, quiet. I did you a favor," Sain muttered.

"Since you're being so difficult, let's change the topic," Leila interjected. "Who is Abel Rigwald?"

"…Right," Sain sighed. "Abel used to be my friend when I was only a squire. I was an up and coming royal guard for him. We used to practice fighting together."

"Did he shout at you like you did at those guards?" Matthew asked.

"Ha!" barked Sain. "Abel wouldn't hurt a fly, at least one that didn't have it coming. His father had quite the temper. Though that didn't help him in the end."

"What happened?" the Nightwatch said quietly.

Sain bent his head, "The Rigwalds were destroyed by bandits. Or maybe it was Plegians. I never found out, and got stationed at the garrison you found me at as one of the only survivors."

The green knight perked up, "But this is not the time for talking of the past! I have a castle to explore with Lord Nolan Novera! You two stay here and enjoy each other's company. Remember what I said about acting!"

The knight left without waiting for a response.

"Typical Sain," the two remaining members of the party said in unison.

**『』**

Later that night, dinner was served. The finest animals were brought out for the occasion. For all their barbaric traits, the Feroxi treated guests well.

Leila paid the meal no mind.

She watched the shadows reflected by candle light. For the first time in a long time, she saw darkness. The blackness that could be hiding anything.

_It seems Count Novera is indeed a Nihil,_ Leila said. Absent mindedly she scratched at the bit of her tattoos that showed past her purple shirt's sleeve.

Sain sat at the high table while Cormag, Matthew and Leila all sat at a lower table more or less by themselves.

The Mantled woman tried to look at Lord Novera, but a chandelier's shadow blocked his face from view. Snarling softly, Leila wished her Mantle would work. For all her life she complained about not being able to sleep or tell time well. But it did have better uses than drawbacks.

_I should try wrapping a cloth around my eyes,_ Leila thought.  _Perhaps that'd block off the darkness? No, then I'd just see the cloth for what its color was, and have light streaming through._

"Leila," muttered Matthew. "Sain's approaching."

Sure enough, their companion walked down from the high table towards them. He took a seat across from Matthew and Leila, next to Cormag.

"You three are free to excuse yourselves and retire for the night when you please," Sain said. "Though Matthew, Leila…do try to make it look like you're married." He grinned with the last remark, and Leila narrowed her eyes in return.

"Go back to your feast," groaned Matthew. Cormag hung his head back and roared with laughter. Leila's brown haired companion stood from his seat and extended a hand to Leila to help her up.

"Such a gentleman," teased Leila with a knowing smirk on her face.

"I think we'll need to kiss," Matthew said. "Count Novera has his eyes on us. If he's suspicious…"

Leila, fed up with Sain's antics and Nolan's watchful eyes, kissed Matthew.

And it lasted a bit longer than she expected. More like a lot longer.

**『』**

Cormag leaned against the wall of the room he awaited the fight in. The roar of the Feroxi in the stands could be heard through solid stone.

"Looks like you're ready," Matthew said, approaching him from the shadows. He had come from the stands where he and Leila were to watch with Sain and Nolan.

"Have a nice night?" Cormag smirked.

Matthew flushed red and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You looked like you were enjoying Leila at dinner last night—"

"Anyway, we can talk about that later," Matthew said, his voice rising. "I wanted to give you this for the battle." He reached to his waist and took the Avvenire out of its sheath.

"We need this woman," the Vanisher continued. "I've seen it. And you know this sword. Wield it one more time, and win this fight."

Cormag stared at the white blade in wonder. He reached a timid hand down and gripped it, the metal's cool feel sparking memories through his mind.

"I'll win this fight. You can bet on it," Cormag said, resolute.

"Be careful," Matthew warned, resting a hand on Cormag's shoulder. "She's quick."

"And I used to ride a Wyvern. I know quick."


	19. Revenge is Coming

**Chapter 19  
Revenge is Coming**

**『』**

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

The sound drove Henry further down the path he was on. Every time the damnable noise echoed through his cell, his brain screamed for release, just an end for the torment.

"Just ignore it, will you?" said the dead man. He was always the voice of reason, the calm that quelled Henry's roaring mind.

"I can't," rasped the white haired man. "It just goes on and on and on and on and on and on—"

"Shut up," growled his black haired companion. Wreathed in black, the dead man occupied the bed across the cell from him. "It's just water," the man waved a hand at the stalactite above them, where the water dripped down.

"It's driving me crazy," mutter Henry, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

" _You're_ driving me crazy," spoke the dead man.

Henry huffed and fell silent. Neither of the cell's tenants moved an inch, creating a quiet calm of silence in the cave like cell.

_Drip._

Except for the water.

Henry leaped from his bed and ravenously jumped for the stalactite. Each time his hands were a mere breath away from grabbing the stone.

"Give it up," advised the dead man, his dull red eyes following Henry's form as it went up and down, each time his hands reaching lower and lower as he got more exhausted.

"No," croaked Henry, ceasing his jumping. With a short rest in mind, Henry sat down directly beneath the dripping water, each drop hitting his forehead with the weight of judgement.

_Drip._

You.

_Drip._

Have.

_Drip._

Failed.

_Drip._

Your.

_Drip._

People.

_Drip._

Will.

_Drip._

Die.

"No!" he lashed out. Furious, he pounced on the source of his irritation. But as it happened before, he was simply not tall enough to reach the infernal stalactite.

The dead man laughed, his tone mocking. He kept laughing, on and on and on and on and on and on and on—

_Focus,_ Henry breathed, attempting to still his mind.  _Fix the problem._

Henry looked up at the ceiling again.

_Drip._

Slowly, he walked to his bed.

_Drip._

Behind it was the jagged rock that fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. He grabbed it.

_Drip._

Then the prisoner stepped onto his stone bed.

_Drip._

Henry screamed like a Fiend and leapt. He smashed his rock into the stalactite, breaking pieces off.

The dripping ceased.

Henry began to howl with laughter, and the dead man rolled over, losing interest in his cell mate.

**『』**

As she took her hair and tied it in a ponytail, Marisa nodded at her new student, "Show me what you can do."

Ike nodded, and raised the large sword with both hands to the ready. Oozing from his hands, flames engulfed the sword's entire form.

Marisa drew her flamberge in response, the morning's sun reflecting off the many edges of the blade.

With a cry, swung his blade in a downward arc. Marisa moved her sword lazily to deflect the gargantuan blade.

When their blades were a hair away from colliding, Ike spun his sword in a spiral and pierced through the air at her unexposed side.

Marisa Switched with Ike.

Disoriented, Ike's attack lost its momentum and the blade fell to the ground with a grunt from Ike.

"You should have planned for that," Marisa said.

Ike surged forward, wielding his sword like a club and performing and overhand strike with all his might. Marisa brought her flamberge up, ready for another feint.

Instead, Ike whipped a hand out and a spark flung from his fingers. Distracted, Marisa nearly missed the blue haired soldier's follow-up attack.

For the first time since her body had fully recovered, the Mantled General smirked, "Nice one."

The two trained for several more hours, each learning from the other in way to utilize their Mantles. By the end of their fighting, the sun had reached its peak in the center of the sky.

Ike departed, seeking the shade of the barracks he'd become accustomed to. Marisa on the other hand, chose to rest near the stockpile of weapons at the side of the training pit. An open tent provided her with the shade she needed.

"May I join you?" asked the one voice Marisa did not want to hear.

"…Fine," grumbled the General, reaching up and removing the band that held her hair back.

Lucius sat down next to her and said nothing. He remained silent for a long time, long enough for the sun to begin its descent.

Annoyed, Marisa stood up. Of course, that was what Lucius waited for, "Does my company bother you?"

"It's not your company, merely what I know you want to talk about," Marisa growled.

Lucius nodded, "It is natural for those who don't own up to their wrongdoings to dislike confrontation about them."

Whirling around, Marisa spat fiery words, " _Wrongdoings?_ I killed a man who betrayed the country he swore himself to, a man who betrayed the very honor he valued! Orson nearly killed me!"

"Calm yourself, anger is unbecoming of a General," Lucius spoke softly.

Despite her fury, she knew the priest was right, and Marisa took several deep breaths.

"Good," approved Lucius. "Now sit, so that we may have a civilized conversation."

"You won't hear me saying my actions were wrong," Marisa said as she sat back down. "I believe in what I do, and I will not question myself."

"Your drive is respectable, and I encourage it," Lucius admonished. "Admitting it is not what I want to hear. I only want you aware of the consequences of your actions."

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Does this line of thinking have a purpose?"

"Sir Orson's son is on his way here from Ylisse," Lucius revealed. "You killed his father, and he wants to find out why."

Blood drained from her face, "Orson had a kid?"

"Indeed, and he's nearly of age," Lucius said. "I've told him that your fate is in his hands."

Leaping to her feet, Marisa drew her sword and set it against Lucius' neck with ire, "No one has  _my_ fate in their hands. I have free will, do I not?"

"I suppose you could leave," Lucius shrugged. "But are you willing to desert the very country you condemned Orson for betraying?"

"I…"

"This doesn't have to end in your death. Confess that you were wrong to the boy, and Naga will make sure you will still have your life," Lucius advised.

"…Why do you do this?" Marisa asked, still holding her flamberge at its position.

"If I may be blunt, Lady General, you are a figurehead. The Lord General is the true commander of this war, and his subordinates run the army. You are a leader, but only in battle," Lucius said. "Troops will flock to you because you have an aura of command on the field. If the soldiers see you committing atrocities, they will follow suit and turn into the very kind of people Naga teaches against."

"I teach my soldiers justice," Marisa snarled. "If I ever hear you saying I'll lead my men and women down dark paths, I'll have your head removed."

"Exactly what I mean," Lucius said, standing up. "Orson's son will be here soon. I suggest you figure out a suitable apology for murdering his father."

**『』**

"I have received word from no less than four Kings of Valm," Camus said once Brenya and Linus sat down in their meeting room. Sirius leaned against the wall, his expression as blank as ever with his eyes blocked. Trabant lounged in the chair next to Linus and Sirius' vacant seat. "Kings Zephiel, Eltshan and Hayden have all expressed disgust that this war still lingers on this front. King Joshua contacted me last night via a Herald and gave me a piece of his mind as to the fate of Lady Lucia."

"Have you heard anything from the High King?" Linus asked.

Camus shook his head, "No, but the Kings were very ready to provide me with advice on how to fix the problem. I had choice but to follow what they said."

Brenya folded her hands and tightened her lips, "And what did that entail?"

"General Steelwind is nearing the capital of Ferox, Ferus," Camus explained. "The city will fall, quite easily if I may add. Upon my request, he sends troops down to back us up. He will follow with part of his army after having sacked the city.

"Until then, we are not to initiate any form of conflict between Ylisse and Valm here," Camus said. "This come directly from me, not the Kings. I will  _not_ have any more of our men and women killed simply because Ylisseans are too stubborn to die."

"What we should do is sneak an attack force within their camp at night and end this farce of a war," Linus supplied. "I could lead it myself, I know how Lloyd thinks. I can beat him."

"No," Sirius simply said.

Camus nodded, "I agree with my brother. It is not honorable, and I refuse to partake in such actions."

"You authorized executing prisoners, but not this?" Brenya questioned.

Leaning back in his ornate chair, Camus responded, "They were prisoners. We gave them honorable deaths, and that was all that we needed to do."

"I won't question your orders," Trabant began, "but if I come across that Pegasus Knight Farina, you can't stop me from killing her."

"You'll follow your orders, because I am the one in charge here," Camus frowned. "You  _will_ obey, understood?"

Trabant scowled, but did not reply.

"That goes for all of you, understood?" Camus said, looking each of his Generals in the eyes.

Had any of them been closer to the doorway, they might have seen the Hand depart from his vantage point.

**『』**

Chrom stood at the bedside of Duke Eliwood in one of their safehouses, kneeling and praying to Naga.

Claude, Heather's older brother, hands worked various healing spells with no avail. The Duke had abruptly fallen far more ill than any of them had expected. His body had been plagued by disease for nearly a decade, but the valorous knight had always pressed on.

Until now.

"He's waking," Claude said, lowering his hands. Chrom immediately cut off from his prayers and diverted all his attention to the red haired nobleman.

Upon opening his eyes, the man was overcome with a fit of coughs that racked his whole body with pain.

"Claude…" he finally managed to croak out. "Leave us…I would speak…with my Prince."

"Yes, milord," bowed the High Priest. Before departing, he said, "Should his condition worsen, call for me."

Chrom nodded and waited for the door to close, leaving them alone.

"My Prince…no, my King…I am sorry," whispered Eliwood.

Chrom shook his head, "You have nothing to be sorry. You served my father, and now me better than I ever could have hoped."

"I was careless," Eliwood said, giving a small laugh even though it hurt him. "But let me report…just one las thing. Let me…die without this regret."

"I am listening," Chrom spoke. "Tell me your story."

Eliwood seemed to gain a semblance of health from an opportunity to do his duty, and began, "I met with Zaelot Solidor, as we discussed. I…did not think he suspected me of working against him. Now, I see I was wrong.

"We dined together. I fear…I fear that it was poison. Some sort of untraceable toxin that he slipped into my wine when I wasn't looking."

"We'll find the antidote," Chrom encouraged, unused to seeing such a strong man become so weak.

Eliwood shook his head slightly, "I…am done. Let my son Roy know my final thoughts were of him."

Chrom nodded, and bowed his head to restart his prayers.

Eliwood's thin hand grabbed the blue shirt of Chrom, pulling the youth close. In a raspy voice, Eliwood spoke quietly, "Watch out for Faval Lowell. Trust him, but once you get your crown, send him away."

"Eliwood?" Chrom asked, aghast.

"He's…dangerous…" coughed the sickly man. This time, the coughing wouldn't stop.

"Claude!" shouted the Prince.

**『』**

"We've all lost someone to the Valmese," he spoke, his voice traveling across the room. "Maybe it was a friend, or even a member of your family."

Chrom paused, "I lost a man I thought of as an uncle. And now my eldest sister is missing, and perhaps she has been caught and killed by the Valmese as well." Emotion caught in his voice, throwing the end of Chrom's sentence off.

"I am not asking you to follow me because of promises of a better future, of no poverty, of equality," Chrom said, his voice regaining its resolute quality. "I only promise one thing, and that is revenge is coming. Be it on the tip of my sword, or the ends of your knives, or pitchforks or axes, revenge will be served.

"I no longer can sit by and watch Solidor rule our city," Chrom drew his sword and stabbed it into the wooden floor. "I say damn him! Damn him to his hell!"

The crowd in the building roared. It ran the risk of them being found out, but Chrom didn't care. They would pay in blood for Eliwood's death.

"Preparations are nearly complete," Chrom said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Soon, we will get our vengeance. When the time comes, I need you to be ready. When the time is right, will you, citizens of Ylisse, be ready to strike back at Valm?!"

The mass of people howled their approval.

Chrom bowed, "Naga watch over us." The crowd answered in a jumble of responses that differed from person to person.

Heather stepped up behind him, and whispered in his ear, "We have someone for you to meet. And we need to get you out of here before the soldiers arrive."

**『』**

"You met with her by yourself?" Chrom said, unable to believe the words coming from Lissa's mouth.

"I wasn't alone," an irked Lissa replied, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair back at their headquarters. "I had Frederick and Heather with me."

"And you met with the woman who controls the Mantled Guilds," Chrom repeated what his sister had told him moments before.

"And she's here now, to talk with us," Lissa said, gesturing at the woman who sat at the end of the table. Chrom sighed, intending to continue the conversation with his sister later, and took a seat.

Faval Lowell sat down across from Chrom and turned in his seat to address the red headed woman, "Name?'

"Morgan," answered the head of the Mantled Guilds.

"And you want what, exactly?" Chrom asked.

Morgan smiled, "I want a free city. I've been watching the impact Valm's tyranny has had over this city. Hundreds dead after the initial attack. Prince Chrom is the solution, even if he is a figurehead."

"I'm not a—!"

"A thousand pardons, milord," Morgan apologized. "But it is true. Figureheads are the best kind of symbol during a revolution. You do the leading, while Baron Lowell here does the revolutionizing. The drawback is that killing the figurehead results in the end of the revolution. Ergo, here I am."

"We cannot guarantee your loyalty," Faval spoke. "I will not have someone in the inner workings of this operation unless I can completely trust them."

"You want my loyalty and those I stand for? Fine, pay me. We're loyal to coin, and nothing else. I may want this dream of revenge, but the rest of my people aren't the most…sympathetic of sorts," Morgan shrugged.

"I can work with that," Faval said. "Let's meet later and discuss just how much that'll be."

"Understood," Morgan bowed her head.

Chrom's hand twitched and his eyes narrowed to a degree, "I will be there too, Baron. I am to be King, am I not?"

"Of course," Faval said, not missing a beat. "I thought it was implied that you were to be included, therefore I did not specify. My apologies.

_He's dangerous,_ echoed in his mind.

**『』**

"Did it go according to plan?" Pelleas whispered.

Rennac nodded, "King Joshua knows of the wedding. He'll tell Eltshan, since they're friends. Our new King will try and act against Zephiel, as we predict."

"Don't count our chickens before they hatch," Pelleas warned. "If we can get rid of their opposition, we are still stuck with Joshua as our suspected killer."

"Do we think the Morph girl is right?" Rennac asked. "She's a Morph, we can't necessarily trust her."

"I know," Pelleas admitted. His hand felt his sword, Devourer, for comfort. He continued, "But I questioned Sir Oswin. I'm good at telling when I'm lied to."

"If you say so."

"But you brought up an excellent point. I'm disbanding the Morphs. I've been getting reports of their…activities. The tall, Arulian one named Karel has apparently been killing members of the merchant family. I received word that two Annas were killed these past two weeks," Pelleas shook his head.

"Ephidel will not like this."

"He'll accept it. I'll let him stay, but we'll have men follow him," Pelleas agreed. "I find myself being wary of him as of late."

"As you wish, your grace," Rennac bowed. "Do you mind if I leave? L'Arachel wants me for something. Probably Fiend hunting."

"It's nearly dawn, and neither of us have slept."

"That's L'Arachel for you. Get some sleep, your grace. You need it."

"One last thing," Pelleas said. "When we meet with my daughter and Hector tomorrow, follow my lead. I plan to keep some of this between just us."

"Yes, your grace."

**『』**

"Did you hear every word straight and true?" Ephidel asked, staring down at Cath.

"Yes," she simply said. Her emotion was kept to a minimum. For the oddest reason, she felt a burning hatred towards this man.

Morphs don't feel emotion, she kept telling herself. It'll go away, she'd reason.

It didn't. So she stayed quiet.

"Then we have things to take care of, and places to be," Ephidel said, turning to the other two figures in the room.

"As of right now," Ephidel continued, "the Morphs do not exist. There are only two legitimate Morphs aside from me still alive, and one is in this room. I'll contact the other personally.

"Karel, you will accompany me to the Chasm. Together, we will finish what we have started," Ephidel spoke.

"Cath, remain here until Guinevere arrives. Then head to the Chasm and assist us. During your stay here, stick close to the King. Tell me  _anything_ he says in regards to us, understood?"

"Yes," Cath replied.

"Ursula," Ephidel went on, turning to the blue haired woman. "Remain here as well. Navarre has not reported in, and we need someone to locate the Avvenire, and fast. Use all our resources, just find it."

"Heh…sorry for not reporting in," chuckled the red clad swordsman, standing in the doorway exhausted. He looked  _beaten,_  so worn out that he held a hand up to rest on the doorway for support.

"Why have you come back without the sword?" Ephidel glared, not even the least bit perturbed that Navarre showed up as he mentioned his name.

"I need more firepower,  _Summoner,_ " Navarre gave a rare grin. "I need Leviathan."

Ephidel gazed at his subordinate for long duration of time. Then, he said, "Fine."

**『』**

Cormag took in a deep breath as Matthew left the preparatory area. He took the Avvenire and switched it to his weak hand.

"Damn," Cormag whispered in wonder, giving the blade a light swing. That healer, Natasha, certainly knew her stuff. By no means was it perfect, but to his delight, he could make a stable fist and move his arm wherever he wanted.

Grinning, he swapped the blade back to his other hand. Glancing at the Feroxi standing near the lever that operated the colossal doors, he nodded.

"I'm ready."

**『』**

Sain allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he saw Matthew and Leila sitting closer than usual.

_Score one for the love master!_ he laughed to himself.

His expression then grew more serious. He wasn't here to laugh, nor was he in the arena to enjoy himself. Sain closed his eyes, nearly offering up a prayer so his friend would succeed.

Count Nolan settled into his luxurious seat and spoke with his servants as they waited for the battle to commence.

Seeing as he wasn't needed at the moment, Sain left his seat of honor and went to speak with his companions, who sat a few rows in front of him.

"Is this a fight to the death?" was the first thing that came out of Matthew's mouth.

"In this case, no," Sain explained. "Since our potential prize is that woman's freedom, it'd be foolish to have a fight to the death. But…maiming isn't out of the question."

"So there is cause to be worried, then?" Leila asked.

"…Yes," Sain admitted. He looked up as a loud clanking sound filled the arena. On both sides, the large gates began to open, revealing the fighters.

"If any of us still believe in Naga, now is the time to pray," muttered Matthew.

**『』**

Cormag felt the sunlight whisk against his face. He could see it reflecting off his armor and sword as he walked into the center of the four pillars of the arena.

Opposite him, the Arulian stepped out of her side. In her hands was a much slimmer sword than the Avvenire.

_The sun must be a boon for her,_ Cormag thought.  _She either has a strong resistance to cold or is insane for traipsing around without a shirt._

As they approached, Cormag called out not loudly, "What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" the purple haired woman asked.

"After I win, we'll be getting to know each other well. I thought to just knock out introductions while we're here," Cormag explained.

She scoffed, "You're no fighter. I've never seen you before in this arena. Tell me why you're here fighting me, and I'll give you a name."

"I'm fighting for your freedom. I've got a friend who's got a bit of an ability for the future. He saw you fighting alongside us. My companion secured a deal with the Count. If I win, you're free," Cormag said.

The Arulian looked at him for the longest time. Her intense gaze flickered all over the older warrior's body, and Cormag realized he had at least ten years on this girl. This would be harder than he thought.

Then she said, "My name is Mia, and you're full of shit."

Cormag tensed, viewing his opponent in a new light. He'd had a small hope that she'd believe him, and lose the match on purpose. But her muscles tensed, spidering like lightning up her arms. Her midchest ceased the rapid fluctuations in air, and stilled.

A pouncing pose.

Count Nolan's voice began to fall over the crowd, "Men and women of Ferus, it is my honor to give you this match today. This fight has special significance—"

_Mia leapt forward, brandishing her sword like it were lit on fire and she was trying to put it out. The cold steel breathed kisses on Cormag's armor as he leaned back out of the way of the strokes. But the protective gear weighed him down, and the thin tip lanced through the exposure below the tough leather chest piece he wore._

Cormag blinked.

"Oh, how I've missed this," he smirked as the words trickled out of his mouth.

"—the Arulian will fight against our challenger, the Lion of Ylisse!" Nolan spoke out.

_Lion? What a stupid name,_ Cormag dismissed, but the crowd roared even louder. They were eager to see this Lion fight their Arulian.

"What's your real name?" Mia asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Cormag. I look forward to this battle," he said. As his sentence ended, he felt the vaguely familiar cloak of silence descend over him.

He'd nearly forgotten this fight would be without Mantles. Count Nolan's Nihil had the longest range of a Nihil that Cormag had ever seen.

"Begin!"

Mia leapt forward, brandishing her sword as Cormag had foreseen. Instead of dodging backward to evade the strikes, he lurched forward, his sword knocking aside the thin steel of the Arulian.

His opponent danced back, evading the single strike Cormag tried to land. Her lack of armor (And clothing, for save the cloth binding her breasts back, she wore no shirt as well), gave her the ability to be even quicker than Cormag had anticipated.

Sliding into a stance of stone, Cormag awaited Mia's next attack. The purple haired swordswoman took carefully planned steps and circled the blue armored warrior. Like swatting a fly, she lashed out with an overhanded strike.

Cormag raised his weaker arm and blocked the attack with his pauldron. A surge of adrenaline and excitement filled him as he put his weakened arm to use. With the newfound energy, Cormag snapped back at Mia, pressing her on the defense.

The woman lazily blocked Cormag's strikes, but it did not escape his eyes that gradually she began to put more effort into blocking his repeated strikes.

_She may top me in youth and energy,_ Cormag realized.  _But I have the stamina of a bear._

Knowing the situation could not lead to anything good if it remain stagnant, Mia ducked the next strike as opposed to blocking it with her blade. Throwing her arms to her head, she rolled on the cold stone, letting her lean muscled arms take the force of the hit.

_Mia didn't strike at his exposed back, she went for his legs. A lateral cut down his right leg brought him to the ground, where she then finished him off with a blade down the neck._

Cormag spun around, his sword low to block the attack he knew was coming. The Avvenire waited for steel to kiss its white metal.

But the attack didn't hit his legs, it shot upward toward his face. By time he realized that he'd screwed up, it was too late. Cormag leapt back, but not soon enough for the blade to miss. It drew a red line up his cheek to his ear.

Cormag brought a hand to his face in shock. Mia took a moment and raised an eyebrow, "Never been cut before, Lion?"

"It…lied…" he mumbled. Blinking, Cormag regained his battle aura. Matthew was right all those months ago.

He couldn't trust the future.

Distractedly, he battered aside an attack from Mia, and followed up with his own that the Arulian barely had to try and black.

_I held that sword for ten years, and it never lied. Not. Once._

Mia scored two more cuts, one right below his pauldron on each side. She was taunting him, taunting his inability to focus.

_Worry later! Don't trust them, fight on skill alone!_ his mind urged him in the voice of his brother, Glen.

Roaring, Cormag swung his sword in a quick, underhanded chop. Mia met his attack in sparks, the sound of swords clashing booming across the arena.

_Mia performed a backflip, and kicked off the ground, hurling herself at Cormag, sword pointed right for the heart._

Gritting his teeth, Cormag watched as Mia backflipped, landing a good five feet behind where she had been standing.

_Believe._

Mia crouched, preparing for an attack.

_Or don't believe._

He swore and jumped forward like a madman.

Mia kicked off the ground, stabbing towards Cormag's heart. The needle of steel edged closer in the span of a second, it's fine point hoping to find a home in the warrior's heart.

Cormag caught the blade.

The Arulian woman's disbelief was evident, and she actually stopped moving. Blood ran red down Cormag's hands painting them the color of the richest fall leaves.

With the strength of his healed arm, he pulled the blade from Mia's fingers. Cormag delivered a kick to Mia's leg, sending her to the ground.

Tossing her sword aside, Cormag touched the tip of the Avvenire to her neck.

"Forfeit," he advised.

Mia stared at him in disbelief, her mind still reeling in an attempt to understand what had happened. She raised a shaking hand upward, the sign that she threw the match.

It was at that precise moment that the screams of Wyverns bolted down from the sky.

**『』**

"Sir, shall we engage?" asked one of his subordinates.

"Indeed," said General Zelgius Steelwind. He drew the  _massive_ broadsword from its scabbard, and pointed it forward towards Ferus. With the roar that rivaled Feroxi enthusiasm, the Valmese army pressed forward.

The red armored soldiers rampaging across the fields reminded Zelgius of ants crossing a field. The thousands of men and women traveled fast, or at least it looked that way from his vantage point.

"We were fortunate that we decided to march through that storm," Zelgius commented.

His subordinate nodded, "Indeed, sir. They didn't even prepare. This will be the easy part of our campaign, for certain."

"It would be hard to top the Longfort," chuckled Zelgius. "Now we better go. We may have caught them by surprise with our Wyverns, but the Feroxi aren't slouches. They'll strike back with more ferocity than we anticipated."

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Find me a Wyvern. I'm going to land in the stadium and kill Count Novera."

**『』**

Valmese soldiers started to drop from the Wyverns into the center of the arena. Sain watched from a distance as Cormag let the Arulian up and engage the red army.

"Drop the Nihil!" Sain shouted at the Count, who wore a stupefied expression. The brown haired Count turned his head and slowly nodded.

Even unMantled Sain could feel the effects of the cover lifting. Leila's sigh of relief could be heard over the screams of civilians as her vision returned to as it was.

"We need to get down there!" shouted Sain, pointing down to their companion and future partner fighting off the invasion force. Cormag had begun to fight within a conflagration, his very being becoming a tornado of flames.

The Arulian moved with the grace of a panther, lashing herself to various places, objects and sometimes people. Every time she changed direction, blood was spilt.

"Take my hands," Matthew said. "I've never done it before, but I can bring the three of us down there."

"Hold up," Count Nolan said, regaining his senses. He snapped his fingers, and the one attendant who hadn't run on sight of the Valmese handed him two objects. The first was the Count's axe, and the second was a bundle of clothes.

"I know you're taking her with you, so take these," Nolan offered. "It's her longcoat and what she was wearing when imprisoned. I saved them for the off chance they'd be needed again."

"You saved her clothes?" Sain said, aghast while accepting the garments.

"Longcoats mean a lot in Arulian society," Nolan shrugged. "Even I'm not fool enough to get rid of one."

"Thank you for all of your help," Sain bowed, taking Matthew's hand while Leila took the other.

Nolan laughed, "Take care, Abel. And work on your acting skills. Bravado can only get you so far, and you're lucky I admire it."

"What?" Sain blurted, confused.

Count Nolan Novera laughed, the sound booming over the chaos. Instead of asking for Matthew to bring him down, the Feroxi man  _jumped over the side of the royal stands._

"That idiot!" Leila exclaimed.

"No time!" Matthew hissed, clenching both of their hands. Then they Vanished.

**『』**

Mia lashed herself to the nearest soldier, and she began to fall towards him. Using the momentum, she drove her resilient sword through the armor, crushing the man's lungs.

Her moments ago enemy, Cormag, leapt in and cut down a woman who was inching too closely to Mia. His flaming sword severed her head from its place.

"We're on the same side now," he said. "My friends will be here soon, and then you'll come with us and flee this city."

"I don't have to do anything," Mia snorted, edging backwards as more soldiers were dropped in by Wyverns.

Cormag groaned, "We just freed you. Hear us out at least."

Three figures appeared behind them. The Vanisher of the bunch let go of the others' hands and traded swords with Cormag.

Mia's eyes narrowed in on the orange longcoat in the green knight's arms. Ignoring the Valmese for a moment, she walked up to him and muttered, "Where did you get that?"

"You can have it back," he said. "Just hear us out, first."

"…Fine. Let's get out of here first," Mia said, irked by even the idea of trading captors.

Feroxi soldiers began to stream into arena through where Mia had entered for the fight. Just as the sides began to clash, one of the biggest men she'd ever seen came crashing down from a Wyvern. His was armored in luxurious plate mail, and carried a huge broadsword.

Count Novera charged at him in a frenzy and began to engage. Moving faster than blinking, the red General parried his attack.

"Let's  _go!"_ yelled the purple clad woman. "We can still find a Warp Shop and get out of this city if we go now!"

**『』**

Levin treaded carefully into the darkened room of Mount Prism. He even kept his breaths quiet so as to not weak the sleeping beast.

"You're quite the fearsome beastie, aren't you?" Levin murmured below his breath, staring at the large black dragon that slept soundly.

The Hunter stepped forward a foot so he could see its head. Taking slightly less care than before, he whispered, "My master has use of you. You will serve him well in punishing the nonbelievers."

Levin opened his hand and a swirl of wind magic pooled into his hand.

"Time to wake up, Bahamut."

**『』**

Claude Lowell sighed as he legs panged with aches yet again. He stood vigil over Eliwood's casket in place of Chrom. The Prince had fallen asleep during his attempt to stay all twenty four hours. He'd made it seventeen, so Claude decided to pick up the rest.

The High Priest was devout, but he was tempted to pray for the trivial matter of getting something more comfortable to kneel on.

That's have to be his next move when meeting with his fellow priests.

" _Claude…"_

The yellow haired man perked his head up, blinking rapidly. No one was near, so he had to have imagined the voice.

But it sounded…different.

" _Claude…"_

The priest reached out with his mind. Could it be…?

" _I am Naga,"_ the voice murmured through the dark.  _"And I have need of you."_

When Claude next blinked, his irises were white.


	20. Sons of the Storm

**Chapter 20  
Sons of the Storm**

**『』**

"You do realize it is foolish to resist, yes?" Steelwind spoke, surrounded by many Feroxi soldiers. Bodies of the Valmese advance force were strewn around him, wounded or dead.

Count Nolan rested his axe on his shoulder, "I happen to think I'm rather well off. These are odds that I'm comfortable with."

"You dropped your Nihil," the Valmese General commented idly. "Was there a reason?"

"You're in the great arena of Ferus. I've got Mantled fighters who would fight to defend this city," Nolan answered.

"But in return, you must face a Lightfoot," rumbled the armored man. "Are you up to the task?"

Spinning the axe in hand, Nolan allowed a small grin, "Care to find out?"

**『』**

"I'm willing to pay double if you double your speed," urged Matthew, worriedly looking out the shop's front.

"You'll get nowhere rushing about like this," complained the old woman.

"There's a war happening outside, and we're in the thick of it!" he replied, irked to no end. Cormag and the new woman, Mia, watched by the door for Valmese. There was a skirmish down the street, but nothing close to them yet.

"Stand in the circle," the crone commanded, pointing at the white circle of runes. "I will send you to Port Ferox. That's as far as my range goes in your direction of travel."

"Fine! Let's go!" Matthew shouted.

"Ah, my gold first," the woman snapped with her wrinkled fingers.

Leila tossed a small bag on the counter, "Warp us, now!"

The five gathered in the circle. Raising the staff, the elderly woman spoke the incantation.

Gone.

**『』**

The tip of the broadsword pressed against Nolan's neck. The Count tried to push himself back across the ground, but lacked the strength to do so.

"Give it up," Zelgius Steelwind said, jabbing the sword lightly into his opponent's neck. You should have surrendered."

"A Feroxi never gives up," Nolan said, gasping for air. He waved his right arm about, grasping for his axe that had fallen when the Count was knocked down.

Zelgius swung his blade and cut off the arm.

"You should have given up when you had the chance." And with that Zelgius plunged his blade into the deep recesses of Nolan's neck.

**『』**

"No…not the voices…" mumbled Henry as he fitfully rolled in his sleep.

The dead man sat up in his bed, "Do you ever shut up? Every fucking night it's the same, you muttering and sometimes screaming. It's so damn hard to get sleep."

Henry carried on his murmurs, unbothered by the dead man's counsel. Sighing, Henry's companion laid back down in an attempt to sleep.

Hours rolled by at a pace similar to the water that had once trickled down from the stalactite. Henry only woke up when the sound of metal fell down the stairs to the dungeon.

Abruptly, Henry's whispers ceased. He focused on the guard that stood outside his cell. Yellow armor with a single black stripe.

A royal guard.

Looks like his brother had finally decided to pay him a visit again. It'd been months since the last.

Jeweled hands lingered on the bars, clinking like a wine goblets. Gangrel always had a fancy for shiny things, one Henry had not inherited from whichever of their parents gave it to him.

"Hello, brother mine," greeted the red haired man. Physically, neither of them shared a single characteristic. Henry was short where Gangrel was tall, white hair instead of red. But for all their obvious differences, their personalities were rather identical.

"Why, Gangy, it's been so long," Henry giggled. "Me and my friend were getting worried you'd never show up, nya ha!"

The King of Plegia's eyes flicked over to the bed where the dead man lay, then back to Henry.

"Come closer," Gangrel asked, sitting on the wet ground.

"Oh, look at you," Henry pointed at the ground beneath Gangrel. "You're messing up your royal clothes. Did you know this is the one place where the leak from the baths above hasn't been fixed?" The white haired man laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

"I'm not here for trivia, Henry," his brother spat. "I've come to know if you're willing to relent."

"Nya ha! That's odd, I seem to remember you saying at length that you could figure out where I hid it without my help," Henry taunted.

Gangrel's hands tensed, "I'm warning you, Henry. The only reason I haven't strung you up yet is because you're my brother."

"Oh dear, are you going to torture me?" Henry mock wailed. "Going to drive the screws through my hands, rip my finger nails off or gauge an eyeball out?"

"I'd cut your hand off," Gangrel said. "And that's not an idle threat."

"Then prove it," grinned Henry."

For their joint love of torture, Gangrel had a streak of compassion that Henry simply lacked entirely. That reason, and that reason alone, he could not possibly put his brother on the rack.

"I might not be able to, but the King's torturer could," Gangrel admitted. "You know I have no qualms with that."

That was true.

"Try what you want, but I ain't giving up the Gestpenst!" Henry cackled, speaking of the most dangerous Dark magic tome in existence.

His brother stood angrily, "This has brought me nothing. Rethink your options, brother mine. Next time I will have the torturer with me. Then we'll see if you have a new answer for me."

As his brother departed, Henry began to laugh. "I'd like to see you try!" he screamed at his brother. "Nya ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"He'll do it next time," the dead man said. "You know he will."

Henry did not care.

**『』**

"My name is Roy, son of Eliwood," bowed the man. "It is my pleasure to serve the two of you in this dangerous time."

"Rise, Lord Roy," Chrom commanded.

Lord Roy was much shorter than his father. He wore blue armor on his arms and torso, and carried a sheathed sword at his belt. From his back dropped down a cape as red as the man's hair.

"Your service is most welcome," Chrom continued from his wooden chair within the meeting room. "I wish I could greet you on more formal standards."

"Milord, I am unoffended," Roy waved a hand. "I came here to free my country."

"I have no doubt you recognize most of us?" Chrom spoke. "This is Baron Faval Lowell and his daughter Heather Lowell, along with her cousin Igrene Lowell. Sir Greil is next to Heather, there. My sister Lissa is in her room, with her protector Frederick."

"And who is this woman?" Roy inquired, gesturing to the red haired woman sitting at the table across from Faval.

"This is Morgan. She's our…hired help," Chrom said, for lack of a better word.

Roy took his spot at the table, the place that had been occupied by his late father.

Long into the night they spoke, talking of things that could, would and should happen. By the time the sun rose, they still were not done.

But it would have to be all for now.

**『』**

"Is this what every meeting is like?" Roy whispered softly, gazing out a window to the sun. It had begun the daily climb the fiery orb embarked on.

"Pretty much," Heather admitted.

Roy shook his head, "We accomplish nothing. We should be out there, doing something physically obvious!"

"That was my brother, Claude's, job," the Baronetess replied. "But he's vanished."

Roy hesitated, "I'm sorry."

Heather turned away, "He knew the risks."

After a moment, "I'm going to suggest we use the soldiers I brought for guerilla tactics. Slash and flee, short and sweet," Roy said. "Slimming down their numbers is crucial."

"By all means, suggest it," the yellow haired woman said. "But my father won't like it. He's—"

Whatever she was had to say about her father was lost when one of Roy's soldiers burst into the room.

"My lords, my ladies," he spoke between breaths.

"What could possibly be so important that you interrupted us?" Faval growled.

"They're fighting, milord."

"Who's fighting?"

"Milord, all of them."

**『』**

Pelleas leaned forward in the chair, folding his hands on the table. The other six Kings had their eyes on him.

"I suppose our first issue of discussion will be the most obvious," Pelleas began. He had wished Rennac stood beside him, but Lara accompanied the High King once again.

"I have no present information on the murder of Lord Uther," the High King spoke. "But if any of you have something to say, please say it now."

Beside him, Hector frowned as not a single person in the room spoke up.

"Then we will all continue our efforts, and for now we'll move on," Pelleas narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on the bored looking Joshua.

Alvis and Hayden both saw the look, and exchanged a glance of their own.

"Since our last meeting, an issue was brought to my attention. Perhaps some of you heard of it, but I speak of the silver mine dispute between Eltshan and bandits."

The yellow haired King's hand clenched into a fist, but to his credit he did not react.

"Some time ago, a silver mine was discovered on Zephiel's lands. When he went to claim it, Eltshan was already there. His army in turn butchered the Bernese men, and chalked it up as bandits," Pelleas said. "Is this accurate?"

"Aye," Zephiel nodded.

Eltshan, on the other hand, was much less composed. His eyes were directly on Zephiel, "Have you forgotten what this Kingdom is?"

"I forget nothing," Zephiel smirked.

Eltshan slammed his fist against the table, "This is a country of competition! We quarrel, we fight, and we die amongst ourselves. There's a reason why our armies can trump the eastern continent's, because they see practice!"

"And that's your justification for killing my soldiers?" the now annoyed King of Bern frowned.

"No," Eltshan spat. "Let's talk about how three months after getting my crown, you overtook one of my supply caravans? Or the time you executed a patrol of soldiers that strayed into your lands? How about the death of my sister?"

An icy chill gripped the room like a vice. Pelleas and Hector both looked at opposing speakers, Zephiel and Eltshan respectively. Alvis conversed quietly with Hayden while Joshua lounged, enjoying the spectacle.

"You cannot prove any of that," Zephiel said.

"Not yet," Eltshan's wry grin taunted the King of Bern.

Armor clattered as Zephiel shifted in his seat, "And what does that mean?"

"Someone else might talk. A certain someone that's coming to wed the High King's bastard," the King of Agustria said.

"Enough," Pelleas commanded. "Eltshan, did you or did you not kill Zephiel's soldiers?"

"Heh, I did. But they deserved it," the yellow haired man spoke.

Pelleas shook his head, "You will pay five thousand gold pieces per soldier that was murdered. Furthermore, I order you to turn over the mine that you seized back to Bern."

"Are you mad?" Eltshan replied. "Will you not even look into his crimes? Mine are justified, revenge since no action was being taken!"

"…You will pay the money, and turn over the mine," Pelleas repeated, disgusted with himself.

Angrily standing, Eltshan flung an accusing finger at the High King, "You're no noble. I don't know what deal you and Zephiel have struck, but know this. Know that this is no longer the country that it used to be. We used to face each other on the battlefield in conflict. Now we sneak and plan, killing without honor."

"Honor is still in Valm," Pelleas said.

"But you seem to have none of it," Hayden spoke up. "At least investigate the boy's claims."

"The King of Agustria can present me with the proper proof, and only then will I take action," Pelleas countered.

Zephiel leaned back into his chair, allowing himself a small smirk.

**『』**

"We're close," Stefan murmured, resting his hand on the sword's pommel. "I can feel the sand's heartbeat picking up."

"Close to what?" Legault asked.

"The Sand Basilisk," Stefan replied, gazing over the barren landscape. The sun was just beginning to set, leaving the hottest part of the day behind.

"How will you find it?" Emmeryn asked, seeing nothing but sand of miles upon miles.

Stefan laughed, "Do not fret, for the Warden of the Desert knows these things. Come, let us rest for a moment. I have something for you."

Reaching into a pocket within his longcoat, he pulled out a white strip of fabric. "Your hair has gotten long," he explained. "It is bad for battling."

Striding behind her, Stefan brushed the hair back. Then he brought the white cloth to Emm's forehead and tied it around her scalp.

"Thank you," Emm said, the hair now out of her eyes. It hadn't been cut since before the invasion, and had grown quite out of control.

The once Queen brought a hand to her forehead and felt the mark that now had a scar through it. The cloth hide it from view, to Emm's relief.

"We rest here for the night," Stefan decided, having stared off into the distance for several moments. "Tomorrow we will fight. To win, we must be well rested."

"Can you beat it?" Legault asked.

"Alone, unlikely," Stefan replied honestly. "But with two more fighters at my back, just maybe."

**『』**

"He's here," Lucius beckoned.

Marisa perked her head up. Lucius sat off to the side in her office, occupying a worn chair. The Mantled General's hand drifted to the pommel of her sword.

_Today will not be my last,_ she vowed.

In stepped a young man, probably only half of her age. He had brown hair, just a touch darker than Orson's had been.

Without speaking, the newcomer took the seat across from Marisa. A desk separated them, but the pink haired General remained on edge.

"My name is Ross," he said, giving only that sentence as an introduction.

"Marisa," responded the General in kind.

Lucius said nothing, watching the exchange. When Ross made no comment about the Nagite, Marisa shot him a glare. "Leave us," she commanded.

The monk frowned, "You cannot command me."

"You served Lord Ephraim before his death. Now you serve me, given that I am General and command your Lord's soldiers. Do not make me repeat myself."

Hissing under his breath, Lucius left the room. Marisa returned her attention to the man in the chair in front of her. Ross gazed at her, his expressionless face betraying nothing.

Finally, "You killed my father."

Marisa made no effort to reply, choosing to let Ross continue.

"I want to know why you did it," he said, serving it as a statement.

"Honor," Marisa began. Taking a long breath, she went on, "Your father betrayed Ylisse. He had no honor left for our side. Out of the respect for him that I once had, I gave him a clean death."

"Honor," spat Ross, giving way to his anger. "My father always preached on about it, saying that honor was the basest of things to follow in life. Forget Naga, forget your Queen, but never forget honor. Look where that got him."

"I am sorry that I had to do it." The apology felt odd on her lips. Apologizing was something she hadn't done in a long time.

"I don't care! You didn't  _have_ to kill my father," Ross slammed a fist on the desk, making its legs quake.

Marisa shook her head, "The penalty for treason is death."

"With a total disregard for everything he'd done for your country?"

"I did not disregard it. I gave him the most honorable end I could," the longcoat wearing General frowned.

"Lies," muttered Ross. "I'll be honest, I don't care much for the reason behind your twisted logic in killing my father. All that matters to me is my vengeance."

"And what will that be?" Marisa asked.

"Your head," Ross spoke. "Don't worry, it'll be an honorable death."

The Mantled General stood and shook her head, "You will not have my life."

"A life for a life," Ross recited. "Naga's divine economy. Will you pay willingly, or not?"

"Boy," Marisa growled. "Do not test me."

Ross stood as well, "I will have my revenge."

Blinking, Marisa saw only one outcome. Lucius would let the boy have his way, especially when Ross threw Naga into the equation.

So Marisa Switched with Ross.

The brown haired boy was standing on the other side of the desk, looking bewildered. Without much of a second thought, Marisa bashed Ross in the face with her gauntleted fist.

Ross collapsed into the chair, completely unconscious.

**『』**

"We certainly aren't model leaders," Brenya murmured in amusement.

Linus shook his head, maintaining his pace, "No. But we're the ones that will get this war won. That has to count for something."

"Still, this doesn't exactly feel right," Brenya replied, her amusement drying up. "We swore oaths to Valm, and are bound to obey our commander."

"Since when have you started having doubts?" Linus asked, his eyebrows coming together tightly.

Brenya clenched her black hand, "I'm not sure."

"Then you best forget about them," Linus said, drawing his large claymore. The lights of the Ylissean camp were brighter than ever before. "Because we're nearly there."

**『』**

"Good night, father," Hugh said. "Try not to stay up too late."

Canas nodded and turned back to the maps on the tables and his calculations. Hugh wrapped his green coat around himself tighter. The nights on the Ruins of Animas tended to dip below the temperature Hugh was comfortable with.

As soon as he shut the door, a hand snapped over his mouth. Breathing intensely, Marisa's breath touched his neck, "Silence…"

Hugh stopped struggling, recognizing the assailant as a friend. But the Mantled General's hand didn't leave his mouth.

"Will you stay quiet?" Marisa asked.

Hugh nodded, and the hand left his face. Turning around, he gave the General a puzzled look. "What is this about?"

The pink haired woman frowned, "Can I trust you, Hugh?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hugh replied.

"Good. We're leaving," she said.

"What?"

"I'll tell you on the way. We need to  _go._ "

**『』**

Port Ferox was a sleepy shipyard on the ocean side of Ferox. The range of Warp Staves could not reach across the sea, meaning that the only way across was by boat.

The journey itself would be rather short, but the issue was destination. No ships would sail to Valm due to the war. The only option was to sail to Arulia, the island nation between the continents.

_Hopefully there boats will be willing to take us to Valm,_ Matthew though. He glanced at their newest member of the ground, Mia.  _Maybe she'll be able to help with that._

Their first order of business was to find the nearest inn. Upon getting rooms at said inn, the quintet grabbed a table in the corner of the room, away most of the other patrons.

Food was brought to the table and immediately eaten (And in the case of Mia, devoured).

The Arulian had taken the clothes Sain had been keeping upon arriving in Port Ferox. Now Mia wore an orange sleeveless shirt. It clung to her body, emphasizing her chest, and had a high collar. She wore light gray stockings that cut off at her upper thigh as well as flexible, durable brown boots. She was shorter than Leila by a slight margin, but the orange longcoat she wore made her more intimidating. It had no sleeves, but Mia wore longer black gloves to make up for it. The coat reached her feet, had a high collar and was in excellent condition.

Matthew felt a hidden pleasure at the fact that Sain couldn't take his eyes off their newest member. The Vanisher tucked away the knowledge for later teasing.

Mia seemed more at ease now that she was out of the arena, and in her proper clothes. Matthew nearly asked the swordmaster just how long she'd been in the arena, but never got the chance.

"So what now?" Mia asked, breaking the silence. The other three members turned to Matthew expectantly.

_Thanks, guys,_ a sarcastic voice murmured. Clearing his throat, Matthew began to tell Mia their story. He began at the beginning, all the way back at Ylisse with the death of Anna and Cath's kidnapping.

It took Matthew nearly an hour to relate the entire tale, with Leila and Cormag adding in their opinions and corrections on different situations. Sain said nothing, still distracted by Mia's beauty.

At the end of the tale, Matthew drew the Avvenire silently and laid it on the table. Thankfully none of the patrons noticed or else there's be a fit.

Or they just didn't care.

"This sword sure is something," Mia commented, running her fingers across the white metal. "It almost reminds me off…"

The Arulian trailed off, her eyes turning stormy. Matthew leaned forward and looked into her eyes, seeing the faint blue glow that he'd become accustomed to when seeing the future.

Finally, she blinked, "That was surreal."

"What did you see?" Cormag asked.

"My home," Mia said. "I saw the five of us landing in Arulia via boat."

"Seems like you're accompanying us, then!" Sain said jovially, speaking for the first time since arriving at the inn.

Mia said nothing, and Leila seemed to pick up on what she was thinking. "You don't have to decide whether to accompany us now, but you might want to go with us to Arulia. I'm sure you want to see your home again."

The Arulian nodded, "I think I will. And I need to repay you for getting me out of there, so letting you into Arulia is the least I can do."

"What do you mean, 'letting us into' Arulia?" Cormag asked, frowning.

"Unless things have changed, no outsiders are allowed in unless accompanied by an Arulian. I have a longcoat, so it will be no issue," Mia explained.

"Damn isolationists," Cormag muttered under his breath, and thankfully Mia did not hear.

Matthew leaned back, "That just leaves us the need for a boat."

**『』**

Ephidel's act before leaving to the Chasm was to summon a creature unlike the sea had ever seen.

Leviathan.

The cloaked man held both of his hands up over the water he stood next to. Speaking lowly, Ephidel began to Summon."

_Lord of the waters,_

_King of the deep,_

_Rise from your depths to serve me,_

_Leviathan, I invoke thee!_

Navarre, who stood several feet away from his master, watched in awe as the water began to bubble. Steam rose from the murky blue as the shimmer of scales could be seen rising.

All at once Leviathan broke through to the surface. His silver scales blinded Navarre. As the head of the serpent leaned forward to look at its master, the red swordsman observed the beast to be longer than anything he'd ever seen. As if it were a snake, its entire body wriggling under the waves.

"Who do you serve?" Ephidel asked, showing no hesitation or fear. Those emotions didn't belong to him anymore.

" _I sssssserve you."_

Leviathan's voice scared Navarre, though he'd never admit it.

"You obey this man here now, understood?" Ephidel commanded, pointing at Navarre.

The silver serpent turned in the water. With a single hiss, it spoke, " _Undersssssstood."_

**『』**

"I asked around," Cormag began, "and only pirates will take us there. No merchant goes to Arulia, and since the voyage to Valm is not worth the risk at the moment, our only option is bandits of the sea."

"Unfortunate," Matthew said, with Leila nodding in agreement. "Still, I suppose it'll have to do. I assume you found someone?"

"Follow me," Cormag said, leading the other four through the shipyard. He came upon a vessel that was both slimmer and mightier than all the others. The captain of said boat waited for them.

"These the rest of your friends?" the burly man asked, folding his arms.

"Aye," Cormag responded. "We're interested in traveling to Arulia."

"Good," the captain said. His white beard moved up and down with each syllable, and while he didn't have an eyepatch, the captain wore a green bandana. "My name is Fargus, and I'll be the captain of your voyage."

"How much will it cost?" Leila asked.

"Hundred thousand," he shrugged. "Arulia is a dangerous place."

Matthew, Cormag and Leila all made eye contact, reaching the conclusion that none of them had enough. Mia caught on it seemed, from her next comment, "You'll take us for free."

"Oh?" Fargus raised a white eyebrow. "Why's that, dearie?"

"I am Mia Arganan," the purple haired woman said. "My father is Homer of Arulia. It has been ten years since I last have been home, and he will reward you heavily."

Fargus blinked, "…As you say, mistress." He bowed and turned back to his ship, "Oi! Colby, get the ship fired up and ready!"

Sain smirked, "Looks like our newest companion has some secrets of her own."

Mia said nothing, and walked closer to the ship to study it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colby is a character that has appeared in all of my FE fanfics excluding oneshots. He is the only non-FE character here


	21. If It Happens Twice, It'll Happen Thrice

"It approaches," Stefan announced. The sun had hit midday, forcing Emmeryn to rely on her ears rather than blinded eyes.

"Where?" Emmeryn asked, standing up while brushing the sand off of her grey pants.

Legault wordlessly drew his knives and waited for their green haired companion to tell them what he knew.

The Warden of the Desert drew his blade, "Straight ahead. I can feel it; the sand itself vibrates."

Emmeryn felt no such sensation, but took the swordsman's word as fact. She bent her legs, ready to act should it become necessary.

"Since you have no weapon, you will be our distraction," Stefan said. He glanced at Emm and smirked, "Are you ready to be as nimble as a cat?"

The woman nodded. Legault didn't look happy, but he did not object.

"Legault, you are a Hand, are you not?" Stefan asked.

"I am," he replied simply.

"Your Mantle, will it help us?"

"I'm a Vanisher. I think I can find a way to use it," the Hand chuckled. His laughter died away as the sand shook in front of them.

The Basilisk burst out of the sand with a screech. Stefan was already in movement as the brown snake dove forward in an attempt to end the fight between Warden and snake it one fell swoop.

Without a Mantle, Stefan fought with the ferocity of a man who had the power of a god. As the snake's head hit the sand, the swordsman struck at its neck. But the scales were too strong, and the metal bounced off, leaving the snake untouched.

That could have been the end of Stefan, had it not been for Legault's timely intervention. The lavender haired man flitted into visibility  _on top_ of the snake's head, and went for a strike at its eyes.

Even though it was an animal, the Basilisk possessed an uncanny amount of cunning. It flung Legault before he could strike and sent the Hand careening into Stefan.

Then it turned to Emmeryn.

The serpent's tongue slithered out of its mouth as it gazed at the blond woman. Emm felt her legs lock in fright. Training was one thing, but actual combat…

Before she could get her mental state back together, the beast struck. Its scales shined like lightning as jaws opened to greet Emmeryn.

The frightened woman felt hands grip her shoulders, and the snake missed its mark.

Legault let go of her and disappeared again. Disoriented, Emmeryn stumbled to the ground.

Stefan had gotten himself up again, but by time he had his sword ready, it was too late.

Legault stood stout as the serpent charged. The snake hissed, and darted toward Legault as quick as it had before. The lavender haired man threw a knife directly into its eye, but that did little to slow the beast's speed.

Long fangs shredded through the Hand, severing his torso from his legs. Blood splattered against Emm before she even considered screaming.

Basking little in its kill, the Basilisk turned to Emm and struck.

Stefan met its teeth with his steel, the white fangs stopping at the green haired man's strength. The snake reared back, spewing saliva.

The swordsman flung an arm up to block the liquid, and was hit from the side by the snout of the serpent.

Sword falling from his fingers, Stefan hit the sand over a dozen feet away from Emm, unmoving. Shaking, the fair haired woman picked up the sword that had been left by her teacher.

The sand colored beast watched her through its one eye, almost as if it asked, 'What can you do?'

"Just watch me, you bitch," Emmeryn growled. Using two hands where Stefan had used one, she hefted the blade into the position Stefan had taught her. "You will pay for killing Legault, and I plan to survive to see Heather again."

The serpent tensed, sensing its opponent was not as weak as it had previously thought. Its eye blinked, and the snake brought its head back to strike.

Emmeryn screamed as the beast short towards her, but it wasn't a scream of fear. It was anger. Frustration. Pride. Love. Hate. Revenge. It was emotion.

The mark on Emm's forehead ached, the scar panging in fear of what she was doing. As the serpent drew closer, Emm jumped to her right, the blind side of the snake.

The Basilisk tried to rear back as it had before, but Stefan's blade cut it right where Legault's knife had wounded it. The force of momentum carried by the serpent drove the sword further into its head.

Emmeryn was thrown aside as the sword leapt from her hands. It stayed imbedded in the beast's skull, and only fell out as the snake thrashed, living its last moments in pain.

The fair haired woman cared nothing for that. She ran to Stefan's side and sat down next to him. Cradling his head, Emmeryn fought the urge to pray.

"You can't die now," she whispered. "Not when we're this close. I even killed the snake!"

Stefan said nothing.

**『』**

"Be careful," warned Glen, his ghostly eyes shifting warily.

Heather chuckled, "I always am. Ready?"

"Are you talking to yourself?" Roy asked, drawing his sword.

"Don't be daft," the Baronetess replied. She, Roy and fifty of Roy's soldiers stood in an alley waiting.

Roy rolled his eyes, "You're a strange one, Heather Lowell. Is it true that you were involved with the Queen?"

Immediately turning dour, she replied, "What's it to you?"

"I serve Queen Emmeryn," Roy spoke. "Since we have no idea of her fate, I cannot say with good conscious that she is dead. Should she return, I'd like her to still have her lover intact."

"Why, Lord Roy, I didn't know you were so caring," Heather said, surprised.

Roy nodded, "I believed in Lady Emmeryn's vision of peace. If she still lives, she'll need all the help she can get."

"Brava to that," Heather replied. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe I hear them coming."

"Here we go!" Roy whispered. He leaned up against the shadowed side of the alley, and prompted the rest of the soldiers to do so. Heather drew the Prima and looked up the blade's black metal blade.

_Time to finally use this damn thing,_ Heather thought.  _I hope this works, Emm._

A squad of red soldiers marched down the street. Further down the road was where the civilians were fighting and rioting. These soldiers were doubtless meant to act as a deterring force.

Unless Heather and Roy intervened.

Saying nothing, Roy leaped from their vantage point and cut down the nearest soldier with his elegant blade.

Heather and the rest of the soldiers charged out after the noble, their weapons weaving and cutting as they went.

Pointing the Prima at the nearest man, Heather felt her eyes heat—

_Marcus had been trained in the art of the lance, and seldom fought with a sword. He'd misplaced his lance and taken a sword instead, but figured it wouldn't matter. He'd gotten only the basic sword training, and had weakness in striking quickly and couldn't take vigorous hits when—_

—up and she blinked furiously. Not a second had passed, but the vision had felt longer than instantaneous.

The soldier, Marcus, she presumed, ran at her. He lunged, and Heather bat aside his sword as if it were nothing. The Valmese man tried to recover, but his blade skills were untrained. His sword fell from his fingers as Heather cut him down.

"Not bad," chuckled Heather, glancing at the Prima.

**『』**

"Down here, milord," Greil said, gesturing to the sewer cover.

Chrom leapt down into the sewer that held a secret passage into the castle. Faval and Igrene followed him down.

Greil lit an ether torch and led the way, axe out and ready. Igrene was armed with a bow while her uncle had a crossbow, armed and ready.

Chrom tightened his grip on the silver blade in his hand and stuck close to Sir Greil. He had not forgotten Lord Eliwood's words.

"I had no idea this passage existed," Baron Lowell whispered, gazing at the sewer. "Everyone knows about the sewers, but is it a secret in the royal family as to how they connect to the castle?"

"Yes," Chrom answered.

"Interesting," Igrene commented.

Greil spoke, "The ladder's right ahead. I'll go first."

**『』**

Lissa knelt next to her window in prayer. It was a struggle to assume the position, but thankfully Frederick had been there to help her.

Making the sign of Naga with her hands, Lissa whispered, "Naga, I beseech thee this day. I ask you as Lissa Vialdi, to receive my prayers and hear them. Grant them if it is your will.

"Keep my brother safe, along with Sir Greil as they try to kill Lord Solidor. Please let them succeed and let it be the end. Let things return to normal.

"Keep Heather safe for my sister, as well. I've prayed for her return, and I know neither will be happy without the other.

"Deliver us to safety, Naga. That is all I ask thee," Lissa murmured.

**『』**

As Faval reloaded his crossbow, Chrom began to work on the treasury's lock. The dead guards would eventually get noticed, so Chrom removed the key that hung around his neck.

Making sure that the other three couldn't see, the Prince inserted the metal into its keyhole. The vault unlocked, as easy as that.

"Damn," whispered Igrene as she looked onto the piles of gold and artifacts.

"The Valmese must have been too busy to crack the treasury open," Chrom smiled, happy that his people's fortune was untouched. He stepped into the glimmering deposit.

Faval followed him. "Find it quickly," he instructed before venturing off to see what else lay in the Vialdi vault.

Pushing worry from his mind, Chrom left the Baron to his devices and made his way to the false wall where the sword was hidden.

To Chrom's horror, the wall was open.

The Prince rushed forward, looking for any signs of thievery. The sword that had been openly on display was missing, but the Falchion was safe. Chrom lifted one of the fake tiles on the ground and pulled the holy sword from its narrow hiding place.

The blade was simple enough, with a wide U shaped hilt. Its blade was the proper length for Chrom, measuring about as long as his arm.

Faval entered his line of vision. Chrom nodded and said, "Got it."

**『』**

Henry stuck the tines of the fork into the cell's lock. He'd hidden the fork during the last meal, and broke off two tines immediately after.

They'd serve as his lockpicks.

"It'll never work," the dead man chuckled, rolling over on his bed to watch the white haired man's efforts.

"Shut up," seethed Henry, sweat meandering down his forehead. He just had to concentrate…

"Hey!" shouted a guard who had stepped into the hallway on his patrol.

Henry hissed, but kept working. If could just—

The butt of the guard's lance hit him in the temple. Henry fell backward, moaning in pain.

"I will inform his majesty about this," the guard said. He kicked aside the tines that Henry had dropped.

The once Prince rolled over on the floor, praying to whatever god that would be set free.

**『』**

Lara had to say one thing about Guinevere. She was indeed attractive.

"Are you Lara?" asked the Bernese Princess.

The black haired woman nodded. The red clad woman stepped further into her room and took a seat opposite Lara. Guinevere had the same color hair as her brother, so fair it almost looked yellow. She was taller than Lara by several inches, something the bastard wasn't fond of.

"So we're getting married," Lara stated, keeping her tone neutral.

"It would appear that way," Guinevere replied, taking Lara's tone as hostile.

Lara shifted uncomfortably, "Do you even want this?"

Guinevere paused, then said, "No. I do not like women, and I have no desire to marry you. My brother asked me to do this, and I am doing it because I love my brother."

"Then it seems we have more in common than expected," Lara admitted. "I have no desire to wed you, and I only said yes because my father needs this alliance."

"Perhaps we can become friends through all this," Guinevere suggested.

"Maybe," Lara replied.

**『』**

"I'll meet with your King tomorrow, don't worry," Eltshan said irritably.

Cath nodded, "He will be expecting you at midday."

"I heard you before. Now run along. I'm sure you have more errands to run for his grace," Eltshan dismissed. He shut the door to his private chambers on the orange haired Morph.

Sighing, Eltshan sat down. He exhaled and relaxed. The sun was long since down, and the King of Agustria needed sleep.

His door opened.

"If that's you again, Morph…" Eltshan muttered, rising from his chair. He walked to the door and opened it fully.

A cloaked man stood before him. In a low voice, the man said, "Have a nice night."

Then he rammed a blade through Eltshan's throat.

**『』**

Lloyd woke to the touch of steel at his neck and the whisper of, "Up you get, brother."

Linus stood in his room, holding his claymore at his brother's throat.

"Quite the lack of honor, brother," Lloyd commented, hiding his fear.

"On the contrary," Linus withdrew his blade. "I may be here to kill you, but I want to do it with honor. You deserve that much."

"Give me a moment to prepare," the shorter of the two said. Without wasting a moment, Lloyd slipped on his longcoat and strapped his sword to his waist.

Linus led him outside, where an open space was located in front of Lloyd's residence. Linus stepped into it, turned around and pointed his blade towards his brother.

Lloyd drew his estoc and held it loosely, "Must it really come to this?"

"We fight for different sides now, brother," Linus said. "We're enemies."

"Only if we have to be," Lloyd replied. "You don't have to do this."

"Get ready, Lloyd. Here I come," Linus said solemnly. He swung his claymore about with the strength of a Powerarm, and jumped forward.

**『』**

"Stay still, will you!" shouted Briggid in frustration as she fired arrows at the Cornerstone.

"Not likely!" Brenya replied, launching fire from her hands at the yellow haired woman. Amidst the blaze, an arrow pierced through, just missing Brenya.

Clenching her fake hand, Brenya summoned another torrent of flames and flung it at the enemy General.

Briggid dodged, but stumbled in the process. The Valmese woman capitalized on the weakness as soon as it happened.

Her fingers crackling with light, Brenya shot bolts of electricity from her fingers straight through Briggid's heart.

Without a sound, the archer collapsed.

Satisfied, Brenya turned to make her way elsewhere in the camp. Her black hand grew heavy as she did so, sending the woman to the ground with a yelp.

"You shouldn't have done that," a wispy voice frowned. "She was very important to a friend of mine."

Brenya looked up to see her uncle standing next to her. Holding up her hand as best she could, she said, "Something's wrong with the hand, uncle."

"Dark magic is volatile," Canas warned. "That's the first lesson you ever learn when pursuing the dark arts. You can't hope to create with the power of destruction.

"I had hoped you'd have seen my kindness as it was, an invitation to leave what you were a part of. But now you've killed someone important to me, and I cannot let that stand," Canas shook his head.

The black hand began to melt. But instead of falling to the ground in droplets, the liquid massed and seeped up her arm.

Fearful, Brenya raised her other hand to scorch the dark magic off of her. As her hand lit up, the liquid shied away, and the Valmese's magic burnt her own arm.

Screaming with rage and pain, Brenya allowed the black mass to move all the way to her neck. It wrapped itself around just below her head, and tightened.

"I am sorry for this, niece," Canas said, turning away.

Brenya tried to scream, but not even air came out of her mouth.

**『』**

"Gah!" Lloyd gasped as his brother's claymore descended next to him. The brown haired man was able to dodge in time, but the consequence was his instability.

Stabbing forward, Linus thought he'd finished the fight. To his surprise, Lloyd, being the quicker of the two, nimbly avoided yet again.

"You're just as fast as I remember!" Linus grinned, pulling back his sword.

Lloyd panted, "And you're stronger than I remember." Hoping for an advantage, the Lord General jumped forward, slashing with his blade.

The estoc caught the side of Linus' arm, giving the bigger man a thin cut. Growling, Linus tried to stab his sword again, committing as much strength as he could muster.

Lloyd didn't dodge, instead he shifted Linus' sword aside with his own and lurched forward. His estoc hit true in Linus' stomach.

Groaning, Linus stumbled back while miraculously still holding onto his sword. Reaching to his belt, he retrieved a vulnerary and drank it.

"Dishonorable," Lloyd commented, and assumed a stance.

"We'll finish this later," Linus decided, turning tail and beginning to flee.

"Coward!" shouted the Lord General. And with that, he gave chase to his running brother.

**『』**

"What's Arulia like?" Sain asked, leaning against the ship where Mia had been standing.

The purple haired woman glanced at him before saying, "It's much better than Ferox. It's warm, and can sustain itself without any outside help."

The green knight nodded, "Anything we should know before we get there?"

Mia thought for a moment, then said, "Yes, there is. Being an isolated country means Arulia has its own culture and customs. For one, our ruling method is different than yours. We can only be led by a swordsperson who has won their longcoat."

"Is that hard to do?"

"Very. Only a small percentage ever do," Mia said. "We have noble houses, but having a coat carries more weight than your blood."

"Who rules Arulia now?" Sain asked.

"I don't know," admitted Mia. "I haven't been there in ten years. Whoever was ruling when I was there is likely dead."

"Too bad," Sain said. "Any information could be useful."

"You'll meet whomever it is soon. When we land, we'll be taken there immediately."

"Why?"

"Outsiders aren't welcome in Arulia."

"Lovely," Sain stretched, teetering as a wave hit the ship. Mia reached out a hand to steady him.

As the knight opened his mouth to say something regarding her action, the Lasher replied, "Don't even try."

Instead, Sain said, "You mentioned customs?"

Rolling her eyes, Mia continued, "Metal is sacred in Arulia. Only swords are made of metal, and occasionally armor. Jewelry made of metal is allowed, but only in small amounts." She showed the brown haired man her wrists, which had a single metal loop on each.

"So you're saying my armor would be insulting if I wore it?" Sain asked.

"You're smarter than you look," Mia conceded, and turned back to the ocean.

Feeling happier, the knight continued on with the conversation, "Is there anyone waiting for you back there? A significant other?"

"The only man in my life is my uncle, and that's if he's even still alive," Mia replied, not in the mood for Sain's games.

"Ah," the green knight uttered, sensing that the conversation had come to an end. But he still stood next to the orange clad woman.

She didn't leave. So at least that was a plus.

**『』**

"You're awfully young to be on a ship," Cormag commented.

Colby shrugged, "I know my way around a boat. That's all I need."

Fargus' sailor was not very tall. Cormag stood about a full foot taller than him. Colby's hair was a sandy blond color, and he was dressed like the rest of Fargus' crew—no shirt, bandana on the head and an axe on back. The slightest amount of stubble graced his face.

"How did you come to be a pirate? You're what, sixteen? Seventeen?" the Flamewalker asked.

"Fifteen," corrected Colby. "And the captain found me one day a couple years ago, and I've been with him ever since."

"That's kind of him," Cormag said, looking out at the sea from his spot atop a barrel. Colby looked as well, seeming to get lost in the waves.

"Do you enjoy being a pirate?" the blue knight asked.

"Yes!" Colby exclaimed. "I love it. Someday, I'm going to captain my own ship! Though I'll need a good name for it…"

"I think you'll come up with one," Cormag smirked.

**『』**

"I'm glad we found a boat this easily," Matthew said, leaning back against the wooden railing. In front of them was Fargus at the wheel, singing a drinking song to himself.

Leila nodded. She sat next to him, holding his hand loosely. "The sea is far vaster than I expected," she commented.

"Miles and miles of open water, just waiting to swallow us whole," Matthew grinned. "Kind of freeing, right?"

"More like sickening," Leila muttered.

The Vanisher quirked an eyebrow, "Do I detect fear?"

"It's just uncomfortable," Leila replied, trying to head off the conversation.

Matthew continued on talking, but Leila ignored him. She gazed out over the ocean, particularly at one spot in the distance. Something looked like it was above the water.

An island? No, it was shimmering…

"Captain Fargus, what's that?" she asked, pointing at what she had seen.

"Gods have mercy on us," Fargus muttered. "All hands on deck!"

**『』**

The sea beast closed the distance quickly. When it got within a hundred feet of Fargus' ship, it dove under and vanished from sight.

Colby's attention was not on the sea serpent for long. A red clad man landed on the ship, sword in hand and coin in the other.

The knight he'd been talking to, Cormag, drew his sword and stepped up to the new arrival. They recognized each other, that much was clear.

"Round three, is it?" said the red warrior. "I brought help, this time."

"What is it?" Cormag asked, warily looking at the water.

"Leviathan, the sea serpent," he replied. "I hope you like the ocean, because it's going to turn into your home."

As if on cue, Leviathan burst from the depths with a roar that ripped Colby's eardrums to pieces. The beast's tail weaved onto the deck, knocking several pirates into the water.

Unfortunately, Colby was one of them.

The young pirate crashed into the side of the ship and flipped over the railing. With desperate hands, he managed to grip hold of the wooden side.

Bit by bit, Colby's fingers began to slip.

A cold feeling flooded his blood. His veins turned to ice, and Colby began to shiver.

Colby Snapped.

But it was too late. The shock from Snapping caused Colby to lose his grip on the side of the boat. The pirate fell to his doom in the murky waves below.

**『』**

Cormag ignored Leviathan. Flamewalkers weren't the best material to fight sea creatures. But Navarre was something he could handle.

"This won't end like last time," Navarre declared. He held up the hand that Cormag had melted in their previous engagement. It had been worked on by some form of magic, and now aside from horrid scars, the hand seemed unharmed.

"We shall see. We've beaten you twice before. As the saying goes, 'If it happens twice, it'll happen thrice,'" Cormag smirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia flying towards Leviathan.

_This is my battle,_ the knight decided. "At your ready," he said, holding his sword firmly in his good hand.

Navarre surged forward without any warning. His sword became a viper and bit into Cormag's arm between plates of armor.

Swearing, Cormag stumbled back. Navarre smiled, and shot his coin straight toward Cormag's heart.

The flat of the knight's blade deflected the coin, sending it into the sea and away from Navarre.

Unfortunately, Cormag was wearing armor.

Navarre held out a hand and pushed against Cormag with his Mantle. The blond man felt himself thrown backwards, crashing into the mast of the ship.

The red man strutted forward, still holding his hand aloft to keep Cormag trapped as he was. As he approached, Navarre raised his blade in preparation to end the fight.

He'd never get the chance.

From behind, Fargus' massive axe severed Navarre's body in half. Blood splattered over Cormag.

"Hop to it, laddie," Fargus growled. "We got a serpent to dice."

**『』**

Matthew realized it was a mistake the moment her disappeared.

He flittered into vision on top of Leviathan's head, and immediately slipped on its wet scales.

_Matthew's red cloak got shredded on the scales as he slid down the monster's back. Panicking, the Vanisher flailed for some way to hold on._

He quickly found his feet and kicked off the side of Leviathan. Sailing through the air, Matthew flipped around and focused on his destination.

The Vanisher reappeared back at the monster's head, and gripped one of the frills on Leviathan's head.

Mia finally reached the head of the monster as well. She lashed herself to the scales, turning her point of gravity into Leviathan.

Sensing something ill, the serpent vigorously shook its head in hopes of driving off the two assailants.

Mia was shaken off, but fell back to the beast's head.

Matthew, on the other hand, was tossed straight into the water.

He vanished and appeared on deck next to Leila, who had been at a loss at how to help. Cormag fought Navarre on the lower deck, so Matthew gripped his beloved's hand and disappeared.

As soon as they got back on beast's head, Mia lashed the both of them to Leviathan's head.

Then the serpent began to move.

Its head lowered towards the water while the tail raised itself out of the sea.

"It's going to break the ship in half!" screamed Mia, holding onto one of the frills.

Matthew struck downward with the Avvenire, but the white blade barely left a scratch on the scales.

With her tattooed arm, Leila hefted her rapier. Leaping forward, she struck at its eye. The thin needled point burrowed into the huge eyeball.

Mia pried out one of the scales with her sword, exposing a very small weak point above the beast's brain.

Raising the Avvenire, Matthew stabbed it straight down into the exposed flesh.

If Leviathan had been screaming before, now it roared loud enough to rip through skin.

Mia broke the lashes and relashed herself to Fargus' ship. She jumped, and began to fall towards the wooden boat.

Matthew, leaning on the Avvenire, extended his hand to Leila. Without the help of lashes, she struggled to get close enough to take the hand.

Leviathan began to fall back into the sea. Leila fell from the head.

"Leila!" he cried. Withdrawing his sword, he jumped after her.

Reaching a hand skyward, Leila tried to grab the hand Matthew still held out for her.

_Come on!_ Matthew swore under his breath. He could nearly…

Their fingers touched, and Matthew extended his hand a bit more to fully grasp her hand.

Just as they hit the water, they vanished.

Matthew and Leila appeared on deck, right next to Sain.

"You know," he said. "I can't do shit without a Mantle."

Matthew laughed.


	22. Traveler Returned

**Chapter 22  
Traveler Returned**

**『』**

"I can take you to Valm," Fargus said, leaning on the wheel of his ship wearily. "Assuming we survive Arulia."

"Lovely," Leila murmured. She watched Arulia growing closer as the winds guided the ship. Soon, they'd be in Mia's homeland.

"You five must be crazy to go here," Fargus growled. "Can't trust these people. Buncha oathbreakers, they are."

"Do you know much about them?" Leila asked curiously.

Fargus shrugged, "I'm a pirate. I hear things."

Terse minutes passed by as the island grew exponentially in size. As they neared the port, Leila could see guards bounding up onto the docks with swords.

"Better get your Arulian friend out. The Arulians might not like bows, but they are an idiotic bunch," Fargus advised, not going into detail.

As Leila moved to the lower deck, the boarding began. Their ship entered port, and sword bearers began to jump aboard.

Most notable of these Arulians wore a green longcoat, similar to the one Mia wore. His turtle green hair came down in a braid and the curved sword in his hand looked deadly.

Mia stepped forward out of the pirates and her companions. She strutted straight up to the green man and said, "Long time no see, Guy."

Guy frowned, and spoke, "State your name, Arulian. I do not recognize your face."

"It's been a while since I've been here, but I'm almost offended you do not recognize me, Guy  _dor'_ Selam," Mia said lightly. "I am Mia  _di'_ Arganan, and I have returned."

The tall man twitched visibly and shouted, "Seize these imposters!"

**『』**

"You'll be leaving now, then?" Rennac asked, folding his arms.

Cath nodded, "There is something I must do. Tell His Grace that I am sorry for parting on such notice."

_I'm sure he will not care._ "I'm sure he will regret such a loss of your talents," Rennac spoke. "But we all have our business. I will not pry into yours."

"Thank you, milord," Cath bowed. She wrapped the blue scarf around her neck and left while palming a coin for her Mantle.

Once she was out of earshot, Rennac chuckled, "One less variable to account for."

It was good she had left when she had, because Rennac received a message only moments later telling of Eltshan's death.

The castle was still quiet, but Rennac raced through the halls to prepare for the oncoming storm.

**『』**

Zephiel's peaceful slumber was painfully interrupted with the touch of a sword to his throat. Warily, he blinked his eyes open to see King Hector's guard, Geitz, standing with a troupe of soldiers dressed in Pelleas' colors.

"What is this?" demanded the King, pushing aside the sword.

"It seems there's been a new development," spoke the King of Ostia, emerging from the group of soldiers. He had his axe resting on the ground. "Anything you wish to tell us?"

_What are they blathering about?_ "I have done nothing to warrant this behavior. I suggest you remove yourself from my chambers, and I may just forget this," Zephiel growled.

"Funny," Hector said, clearly not amused. "I'm sure Eltshan will not forget this."

Zephiel stopped attempting to sit up and said, "What happened?"

"King Zephiel of Bern, you are hereby accused of murdering King Eltshan of Agustria. Do you deny these charges?" Hector asked.

"Of course I deny them! They are false!" the King in question argued.

"I suppose we shall see at your trial," Hector stated. "Men, women, take him to the royal dungeons."

**『』**

"Did you know," he whispered, speaking to the dead man, "that ravens have incredible memory? It's easy to become friends with a crow, because they'll remember your face."

"I can't see how that matters," the dead man deadpanned.

"Not yet," Henry murmured, stroking a hand down the crow's back. "But it doesn't matter, beCAWS soon you'll understand."

The crow cawed, and flapped its wings. Henry giggled, "You know what to look for, right?"

His feathered companion dipped its head down in response (Or at least Henry assumed it to be one), and took off flying out the narrow window.

"You're a fool if you think that bird will help you escape," the dead man said, sitting upright on his bed.

"My friend will get us out, do not worry," Henry replied, settling into his bed.

His cellmate blinked, "So it's 'us' now?"

"Is there a problem?"

"You're further gone than I thought."

**『』**

The throne room looked the same as it always had. Except instead of seeing his sister on the elevated throne, Chrom saw Zealot Solidor seated there.

Zealot wore surprisingly modest armor. Worn silver plate mail accompanied by a blue cape ornate his weathered features. A lance leaned against the throne, not far out of reach from Solidor's grip.

"I figured you'd come," Zealot spoke in a rusty voice.

"I have come for my sister's throne," Chrom stated, drawing Falchion. "It is mine by right, in her absence."

Zealot drummed his fingers on the arm of the seat tiredly. "Inheritance…the easiest way for a family to rip apart," he muttered. His voice raised, "I will give you this chair if you best me in combat. I may be an older man, but there is fight left in me."

"I accept," Chrom said. "It seems there is still honor in Valmese soldiers."

Zealot gripped his lance and pushed himself up and out of the throne. With newfound vigor, the Valmese Lord stepped down the stairs.

Chrom gestured for Igrene, Faval and Greil to back away. He'd fight this battle himself. With the power of Falchion, he had no way of losing.

Spinning his lance, the old warrior settled into a battle position. Seemingly seeing something beyond Chrom, the black haired man grinned.

"Have you ever heard of the Omniseer Mantle?" Zealot asked.

"I can't say I have," Chrom responded, his shoulders tensing in apprehension.

"It's a curious thing," Zealot spoke, beginning to circle Chrom. The throne room was large enough for them to have plenty of room for their duel. "As an Omniseer, I can see whether a battle is within my grasp to win. I can see just how likely it is for me to succeed against my opponent."

"Why are you telling me this?" the soon to be King asked.

Zealot laughed lightly, "Because with that sword you have there, I have no chance of winning."

Chrom frowned, "And that's cause for jubilation?"

"You see, that is the amusing part. I have no chance of winning, but I win. Why is that?"

Chrom opened his mouth to speak, but was quieted by the touch of steel. A long knife rested against his neck.

Faval Lowell breathed in his ear, "You shouldn't have trusted me."

"Milord!" shouted Greil. He started forward, but was stopped by Igrene's arrow to his heart.

Zealot walked forward, "And you should have been more careful with who you hired." He ran a hand through his hair, and the black began to change to red. His eyes changed from blue to the sharpest gold Chrom had ever seen.

Morgan laughed, "You're a fool, Chrom Vialdi. Now you will pay for it."

**『』**

The sun was nearly down by the time Stefan came to. Emmeryn had built a fire and trapped a stray lizard for dinner.

Alerted by a moan from the green haired man, Emmeryn leapt to his side. She'd cleaned most of the blood off of him, using as little water as she could spare. Stefan had broken at least a few ribs, and probably more. And then there was the wound on the back of his head.

"Girl…" he murmured, not opening his eyes.

"I'm here," Emmeryn breathed, wrapping her hand around his.

Stefan blinked his eyes open, still unseeing, "My vision…is hazy."

"You were hit on the head hard, judging from the blood," she explained. "Perhaps that has something to do with it."

"Is it dead?" Stefan asked, tilting his head up in hopes of seeing the beast's corpse despite his vision.

"We killed it," Emmeryn confirmed.

The swordsman sighed with relief and lay back onto the sand. "Good…" he whispered, he voice sounding weaker.

"Tell me what to do," she said. "I can help you, I know it."

"Girl…my time is up," Stefan coughed. "I have had broken ribs before, and it does not hurt this much."

Emmeryn shook her head, "You can't die!"

"A man's time always comes. Death can only be denied so many times," Stefan chuckled despite his obvious pain.

"You'd leave me alone?" Emmeryn asked quietly.

Stefan closed his eyes, and reopened them after a moment. His gaze turned to her, seeing again, "I apologize. It is dishonorable to leave a Lady by herself."

"Then don't go," she pleaded.

"I will give you a parting gift instead," Stefan said, seeming to not have heard her comment. "In this desert, there is a village. I am its guardian, and have protected it. I choose to pass that task on to you.

"Go there once your business is done in Ylisstol. Then will take care of you, and Heather should she accompany you," Stefan urged.

Emmeryn's grip tightened on Stefan's hand. "What do I tell them of you?" she said, tears beginning to drip from her eyes.

"Tell them I died for them," Stefan murmured.

"I will," she vowed. "I swear it on my honor."

Stefan let his head fall back towards the ground. He whispered his final command as he did so, "I want…you to take my longcoat. They will trust you…if they see you with it…"

"Are you sure?" Emmeryn said, her voice becoming incoherent through the emotion.

Stefan gave no indication he heard her. The final sigh expelled itself from his lungs, and the hand Emmeryn held fell limp.

She let the swordsman's hand fall out of her grip. With the other, Emmeryn wiped the tears away.

The fair haired woman turned away from her mentor's body and began to dig. Her hands tore through the sand as she dug what would be his and Legault's grave.

The sun had set and risen by time she had a big enough hole. Standing up, Emmeryn walked to Legault's body and picked up the upper half.

"I am sorry, my friend," Emmeryn whispered. "You lived to serve me, and I hope that has granted you some form of reprieve in the next life."

Gracefully, she set Legault down in the grave. Another trip, and she brought the lower half of her Hand.

Emmeryn took the longcoat off of Stefan's body, as well as his sword. She lay him next to her once-protector.

"You two died trying to get me back to my home," Emmeryn said, standing over her two friends. "I didn't deserve that, but I will make full use of your sacrifice."

It was midday by time Emmeryn had pushed all the sand over them. With no way to mark the grave, Emmeryn remained and stood vigil over them until the sun had set and risen again.

Slipping on the longcoat and strapping the sword to her side, Emmeryn began to walk. She knew directions in the desert by now.

Emmeryn would not let their memories be forgotten.

**『』**

"Just great," Matthew muttered, sliding down the wall. "It feels like everyone is against us."

"It's just a cell," Cormag commented from the other side of the room. "It could be worse."

All five of them were being held in separate cells that lined the walls of the Arulian fortress. Soldiers had seized them at Guy's command. Mia's presence didn't seem to be appreciated by the general population as they had been walked to the castle.

"Hey, Mia, what was all that about?" Sain asked, poking his head through the bars. The guards at the end of the hallway didn't like his behavior very much, but did nothing.

Mia stepped up the bars and spoke, "Seems like my people aren't too happy to see me."

"How come?" Sain replied.

"I am the heir to a particular position that others want for themselves," Mia said evasively.

"Enough talking," one of the guards said. He marched over to Mia's cell and unlocked it. "Someone is here to see you."

"Lucky me," Mia muttered, stepping out of her cell.

**『』**

Mia was not expecting to see her father so soon.

"Homer, what are you doing here?" she asked, glancing around the empty room for any prying eyes.

"I find out that my daughter is not dead, and has returned home for the first time in over a decade, how could I not immediately show up?" Homer asked, aghast. He stepped forward and embraced Mia.

Lord Homer looked much younger than he was. His purple hair had yet to yield a grey hair. His shirt was made in a way that the front of the shirt hung open, exposing his in-shape chest and the intricate necklace around his neck. Homer wore a pair of brown pants with tan boots. On his hands, he wore blue gloves that extended to his middle finger and wrapped around the base of said finger in a ring.

"Even though I'm not your real daughter?" Mia raised an eyebrow, but returned the hug none the less.

"I promised your parents I would look after you," Homer said. "I thought I'd failed in that regard for a very long time."

"You didn't. I got holed up in Ferox for a long time," Mia elaborated slightly.

Homer stepped back, "Doing what?"

"I'll tell you later. I need your help right now," Mia spoke.

Homer shook his head, "You'll tell me now. I refuse to offer you my help until you tell me exactly what has been happening during your absence."

_Dammit._ "Fine, this'll take a while," Mia grunted.

As it turned out, Mia was right. Three hours crawled by as the orange clad woman recounted the past ten years to her adoptive father.

But in the end, he did offer his help.

**『』**

"This session has now begun," spoke the Arulian Overlord. The two Underlords sat on either side of him, Guy and Homer. "Underlord  _dor'_ Selam, what is our reason for meeting?"

Guy stood and addressed the men and women who stood in the audience area. The Arulians who had won their longcoats stood in the front of the crowd, per social etiquette. In front of the elevated seat where the three Lords were, Mia and her companions stood, awaiting judgement.

"Earlier today, a woman whom had been long declared dead arrived at our shores. Mia  _di'_ Arganan has returned," Guy spoke.

Few members of the crowd showed positive reaction. Many hadn't the slightest idea who she was.

Guy continued, "For those of you unaware,  _di'_ Arganan is the foster daughter of Homer  _dor'_ Arganan. She is heiress to the position of Underlord. Presently, we shall decide if she is still Arulian enough to inherit that position."

The Overlord gestured for Guy to sit. The man clad in a black longcoat stood. Mia knew him as Carlyle  _dor'_ Hesmen. According to Homer, he was seventeenth occupant to hold the title of Overlord since she was there last.

Arulian politics were bloody, and anyone who had won their longcoat could challenge the Overlord for his or her title. But Underlords were decided through inheritance, which was why the topic at hand held the utmost importance.

"First and foremost, I welcome back Mia  _di'_ Arganan to the land of Arulia. Ten years are too long to be away from one's home," Carlyle spoke, bowing towards her. Brushing his shoulder length brown hair back, he continued, "But we must take the necessary measures and determine whether you are worthy of that longcoat you are wearing."

Sensing it to be her time to speak, Mia cleared her throat, "Overlord, if it is your desire, I will take the Trial again."

"No," piped up Homer, to Mia's surprise. "While I wish for my daughter to earn her birthright back, the trial is a simple challenge for her. We cannot use it as a means to decide her competency."

She'd half expected Homer to mention that crucial detail. Mia had hoped Guy would have been the one to bring it to light instead.

"Then a simple deathmatch should suffice, should it not?" Guy suggested, a knowing smirk glowing on his face.

_He means to have me killed,_ Mia realized.

Carlyle nodded, taking his seat, "A deathmatch will do. Mia  _di'_ Arganan, you have one hour to prepare. I should like to speak with you in that time, if you would allow."

"I am willing," Mia bowed.

**『』**

"So what exactly happened in there?" Sain asked as the five companions were herded into a room.

Mia turned her attention to the armorless knight, "I will fight some form of opponent, or opponents. If I win, you four will be under my authority and we'll be off to Valm tomorrow. If I lose…I'll be dead and the four of you will be in the dungeons for the rest of your lives."

"Lovely," Matthew commented dryly.

"It's a simple system," spoke a new voice. "But it has its uses."

Carlyle  _dor'_ Hesmen stepped into the room. "I apologize for what has happened, Mia. But you know our ways."

"You are Overlord. I understand you have obligations," Mia bowed respectfully.

"Guy has it out for you," Carlyle mused. "I'm not sure why, but he will be trying to get you killed."

"I know. I hope he fights me himself," the woman spoke.

Carlyle shook his head, "I doubt he will."

On an off chance, the Overlord happened to glance at Matthew. But it was the man's hand that took his attention.

"Show me your hand," Carlyle commanded, his tone turning dark.

Bewildered, Matthew held out the hand that bore the strange mark. Carlyle scrutinized it, bringing his eyes much closer.

"After Mia's fight, the two of us must speak," Carlyle declared, giving the Vanisher a hard look.

"Uh…sure," Matthew replied, confused.

**『』**

"Up you get!" Farina shouted, rolling Lalum out of her bed. The mage hit the floor with a crash, bashing her head.

Unfocused, Lalum slurred, "What'd you do that for?"

"Our Lord General fought off a nighttime assault from Valm, and now he's giving chase," Farina growled, strapping armor to her body. Lalum jumped up and began to put on her bodice and cape. "That meant Valm got aggressive and is attacking us. Now, we go from there."

"Is your pegasus ready?" Lalum asked, scooping up her magic tome.

Farina spared a moment for the briefest of chuckles, "She's been ready for a while, sleepyhead."

**『』**

Camus rode with a small brigade of soldiers, no more than twenty, through the canyon. They were all elite soldiers prepared to give their lives.

Camus' mission was to kill General Lloyd.

Unfortunately, he did not make it very far. One of the riders next to him disappeared and was replaced by longcoat wearing woman. The man who'd previously been there fell down from the top of a plateau. The woman Camus recognized as the Mantled General decapitated the nearest riders.

A wall of fire erupted in front of the brigade. General Hugh stepped through the blaze holding an orb of flame.

The two Ylisseans quickly killed the entire group of elite soldiers. There was no debating that these two were the strongest fighters Ylisse had to offer.

Camus dismounted, and readied Gradivus.

**『』**

The morning sky gave Farina plenty of visibility on her prey. Her Wings flew behind her, ready to fight off the Wyvern Riders in what would be a hopeless battle.

Lalum mentioned the possibility that killing Trabant would make his forces flee. Immediately, that became Farina's plan.

Trabant's mount was unmistakable. Bigger than every other Wyvern, its wings beat a pulse in the air. The blue haired woman spurred her pegasus towards the Wyvern Rider.

Leveling her spear at a lethal angle, Farina charged into Trabant.

As she expected, he deflected her attack. Swinging his yellow gauntlet, the Feroxi's lance was knocked aside. Working symbiotically, Lalum threw a fistful of fire at Trabant.

The Wyvern moved with surprising speed, narrowly evading the blaze. Trabant cracked the reins and sent his mount crashing towards Farina's.

In a flash of white, the pegasus flew above Trabant and out of harm's way.

And then Lalum did something incredibly stupid.

She jumped onto the Wyvern as it passed.

**『』**

Marisa's flamberge struck Camus' lance with ferocity. Like a snake, the Valmese General lashed back, exposing a weak point in the Mantled General's guard.

Hugh appeared in an instant to defend her, slinging fireballs at Camus. The blond man leaned every which way in order to evade the heat. It cost him his chance to retaliate against Marisa.

Then the unthinkable happened. Marisa Switched with him, and disarmed Camus of his lance.

Gradivus fell to the ground out of Camus' reach.

The Ylissean's flamberge found a home inside the stomach of the Valmese noble. Its many curved edges were caked with blood as it speared out the other end of Camus.

"NO!" screamed a familiar voice.

Sirius had arrived.

**『』**

Lalum had been lucky enough to land upright on the dragon, though it still hurt like a bitch.

Trabant swung his lance around his back in an effort to unseat her. The mage ducked, and the spear whisked harmlessly over her head.

Gripping an ether crystal in one hand, Lalum thrust one hand towards Trabant's neck and gripped the front of it. Chanting a quick spell, fire engulfed her hand.

Screams billowed from Trabant for only a moment. His neck disintegrated in the intense heat, killing the man's vocal chords. She tossed the dying man from his saddle into the air.

Now she had to deal with the mount.

The infuriated Wyvern screeched and attempted to hurl Lalum from its back.

Farina swooped in like an eagle, and flung her lance into the neck of the beast, killing the mount similarly to its rider.

But that presented a new problem: falling.

Lalum felt the air begin to rush against her face as the familiar sensation of falling dripped through her body.

The orange haired woman closed her eyes and waited, either for the ground or something else.

That something else turned out to be Farina catching her on the rider's steed.

**『』**

Sirius watched with satisfaction as he drove off the two Ylisseans with the aid of his Mantle. The battlefield was scarred and in complete disarray. Sections of the plateaus had fallen down, sometimes nearly killing one of the fighters.

"Brother!" called Sirius, racing to his twin's side.

Camus was dead by the time his masked brother arrived. The sword through his stomach was worse than it appeared, it seemed.

"Brother…you were the leader of this army. We cannot go on unified without your assistance," Sirius whispered. He reached up and removed the mask from his face, exposing the same visage of Camus.

With careful hands, Sirius removed his twin's clothes and dressed himself to play the part of Camus. He took Gradivus in one hand, and carried his brother's body in the other arm.

Sirius became Camus when he walked out of the canyon.

**『』**

"I dislike waiting," Volug murmured, pacing back and forth on the beach.

"Hush now," Micaiah spoke. "I Saw this place, at this moment. It won't be much longer."

The two odd companions sat on a beach in southern Plegia. The waves crashed ashore, being the only water for miles.

"A lot of beaches look similar," Volug mentioned.

The Farseer glared at her wolfish friend, "I know what I'm doing. Or have you forgotten what I am?"

Volug bowed his head in apology and remained silent.

The white haired woman turned her attention back to the water. Something began to float closer to shore…

"There he is!" Micaiah cried.

Volug began to walk forward. Utilizing his Mantle, he morphed into the shape of a wolf and ran out into the ocean. Taking care not to harm the man, Volug gripped his shirt in his mouth and pulled him ashore.

Micaiah waved a hand over the body of Colby, and the pirate regained consciousness.

"Where am I?" he immediately asked.

"Home," Micaiah answered. "Probably only a few days since you left."

"Oh, it's you," he answered, sitting up. "Perhaps it was a few days to you, but it was nearly twenty years for me."

"Time flies when you're hopping between worlds, Leaper," Micaiah chuckled. "Buck up, we have things to do."

"I always wondered if I'd come back to this one," Colby mused, standing up. "Seems like this world needs my help too."

"We're going to need a lot of help if we plan to beat  _them,_ " the Farseer muttered. "Mant has been doing his part, and I'll need your help for mine."

Colby smirked and scratched Volug behind the ears, "If you say so…Yune."


	23. Ephemeral

**Chapter 23  
Ephemeral**

**『』**

Camus hunched over in his chair, and looked at the only person he had left: Linus.

"I am sorry, if that counts for anything," Linus said, bowing his head slightly.

The last Cornerstone leaned forward closer to Linus who sat on the other side of the table. An ether lamp rested on the corner of the desk.

The red light felt hot on Camus' eyes. His vision had yet to adjust from years of wearing a mask. It had been his brother's idea, a way to tell them apart and to hide the fact they shared the same face.

"My brother is dead," stated Camus. "That can never be undone. I will not punish you for your insubordination now, given that you are my only General. But I swear on my honor, if we both make it through this conflict, I will carve your heart out."

"Understood," Linus said, though he did not look pleased. His frown shifted back to a neutral expression rapidly.

"Now that that is decided, it is time we figure out how we win this war," Camus spoke quietly. "I have received word from King Hayden that no negotiations are to take place."

"Is he mad?" Linus asked. "Our forces outnumbered the Ylisseans at the start of this conflict. As we stand now, we barely are even with them. All our Generals and Cornerstones are dead as well."

"Orders are orders," Camus grunted. "We can't go against Hayden."

"Why? Surely the High King would agree with us if we pursued a treaty?" Linus wondered aloud.

"Hayden is the oldest King," Camus said. "Did you ever wonder how that happened? Why no knives have been put to his back?"

Linus narrowed his eyes, "Now that you mention it…that is rather curious."

Camus opened his mouth to continue, but a messenger stepped into the room and announced, "Sirs, General Zelgius Steelwind has arrived."

Camus' eyes widened. "This changes things," he whispered. The Cornerstone cleared his throat, "Send him in."

The messenger bowed, and Camus thought he looked familiar. The person in question beckoned Zelgius into the command room.

"Wait," Camus ordered, staring at the man. Zelgius entered, and frowned.

Standing and resting a hand on his sword, Camus walked up to the messenger. To the man's credit, he didn't back down.

"What's your name?" he asked the shorter man.

"Astol, milord," bowed the messenger.

With the speed of a hawk, Camus grabbed Astol by the shirt. With his other hand, he ripped open the man's shirt.

A black symbol of the Hands rested over his heart.

"Spy," cursed Camus. "Guards!"

Two red clad Valmese swordsmen stepped in. "Take this man away. I want him hung in front of the entire army. Make it known he was a spy."

"Yes, sir!"

With the departure of the two men and their prisoner, Zelgius cast Camus an appraising look. "Well handled," he observed.

"I am ashamed that it is only now I remembered the Morphs' description of Ylissean Hands," Camus spoke.

"An honest mistake. I will not hold it against you," Zelgius smiled. "I trust you know me, so may I have your names?"

"Camus, of the Cornerstones," the blonde said.

"General Linus," said the sitting man. He only stood after giving his name.

"Where are the other commanders?" Zelgius asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Dead," Camus grunted. "We're the only two left."

General Steelwind's gauntlet clanked as he formed a fist. Sighing, he spoke, "We're worse off than I suspected. But this only reaffirms my plans?"

"Do tell," Linus said, resuming his place in the chair.

"We retreat back into Plegia. If we can lure the Ylisseans off of their land, we might be able to set them off balance," Zelgius said.

Camus frowned, "We can't afford to give up our defensive position right here. It's our only means of protection."

"Then we'll get another," Zelgius simply shrugged with a sly grin.

"I assume you have something in mind?" Linus asked.

Zelgius chuckled, "Oh, I do."

**『』**

"They're…retreating," Hugh observed from their vantage point.

"Do you think it's possible they're packing up to go back home?" Marisa asked, wary of the leaving Valmese army.

"Doubtful," Hugh thought aloud. "They know Lloyd will chase them, and an army of their size can't move quickly enough to stay ahead of us. Eventually, the Ylissean army will hit them from behind."

"Are there any places they might be going?" Marisa asked, staring at the three horsemen at the front of the vanguard.

"The only fortifiable location in Plegia aside from here is the capitol, Carestia," Hugh supplied. "It's possible they're headed for there."

"Then we follow them, and do what we can to cut off the heads of the beast," Marisa declared. She took a step forward and Hugh rested a hand on her shoulder.

Clearing his throat, he spoke, "First I want an explanation as to why we fled from the army in the middle of the night."

Marisa narrowed her eyes, "Does that really matter?"

"Given that I'm here on your orders, I'd like to know."

"Someone wanted to kill me, so I escaped. Figured I should bring you along, so we could do some more damage," the Mantled General said.

"Who was it?" Hugh asked.

Marisa waved a hand dismissively, "That priest who showed up one day, Lucius. He had something against me."

Hugh gave her a look. Marisa sighed, and continued, "He was trying to get me to repent for all the people I've killed. Then he brought Orson's son here to kill me."

"Orson's son is here?" Hugh frowned.

Marisa shrugged, "Not sure if he is now that I'm gone."

"So that's why you ran away?" Hugh asked. "Rather cowardly, if you ask me."

Marisa fixed him with a stare. Hugh shook his head and continued, "Not that I'm one to talk. When I was in charge, I didn't take risks. I'm just as much of a coward as you are."

"Wow, we're so alike," Marisa's voice was wreathed in sarcasm.

"That might be the first time I've ever heard you make a joke," Hugh raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get your hopes up, kid," Marisa muttered,  _almost_ smiling. "We've got an army to pursue."

**『』**

Zephiel's head was placed on the stone carefully. His armor had been stripped from him so he could bend his neck over the edge.

Hector's guard, Geitz, held the headsman's axe. It gleamed in the sunlight, having been freshly polished.

"I'm glad this madness is over," Hayden said, watching the events unfold without emotion.

Pelleas nodded, "I never thought Zephiel would kill Eltshan. He's always been far more calculating than that."

"The trial proved his guilt," Hayden spoke. "Law is law, and here we are."

Geitz stepped up to Zephiel and waited.

"Indeed," Pelleas agreed. "But now we have to Kingdoms that need new rulers." The High King waved a hand towards Geitz. The tall, purple haired man nodded.

"I thought of an idea on how to solve that," Hayden said, brushing a teal lock behind his ear.

Geitz brought up the two handed axe, and let the blade plummet down.

The Kings of Valm all watched with no reaction as their number fell by one. Hayden turned his head to face the High King. "Have my son, Innes, marry Guinevere. He can rule Bern until Zephiel's infant son has grown."

"That's an idea," Pelleas murmured, finally taking his eyes off Zephiel's head.

"I'd also like to do you a favor," the King of Frelia proposed. "You have an entire wedding prepared. Have your attendant, Rennac, marry my niece."

"L'Arachel?" Pelleas raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Power is quickly changing hands, and we should show a unified alliance." Hayden chuckled, "And those two are quite in love."

Pelleas laughed lightly, "That is correct. Very well, I'll give you that. But as for Innes and Guinevere, let me talk to Hector about it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

Hayden frowned, "You do know I don't need your approval to go forward with it."

"No, but I can make your life difficult if you don't have it," Pelleas said.

**『』**

"You traitorous bitch," snarled Chrom as Igrene tightened the noose around his neck.

Igrene Lowell shrugged, "Some things you just do, milord. It's nothing personal."

A crowd had formed moments after they brought Chrom out. The stage and surrounding area was stacked with Valmese guards. Faval stood next to Zealot with a hood over his head. Falchion was at the Baron's waist.

Igrene left him once the job was done, giving the Prince free reign to listen in on the two conspirators talking.

"…infiltrate them. They're holed up in the upper floor of a bakery on the west side. I'll show you where tomorrow," Faval said.

"And you want me to use Frederick as an access point?" Zealot asked.

"Yes. I'm going to leave now. I trust you can handle this?" Faval questioned.

The Valmese Lord nodded, and Faval departed.

Chrom closed his eyes.

And grinned.

The mark of Naga on his arm would say otherwise. Forming a fist, Chrom bided his time.

**『』**

The walls of Ylisstol were taller than she remembered. Thankfully, she wouldn't need to scale them.

Emmeryn had been the Queen. She knew the secret passages in and out of the city.

When she finally found it, a single Valmese guard stood watch outside of the disguised stone door. Fortunately, his presence reaffirmed that she had found the entrance.

But now she had an obstacle in her path.

Emmeryn stepped up to the red guard. He had seen her coming for the past ten minutes, since she was the only one in sight.

"Watching for Fiends?" Emmeryn asked once she got within speaking distance.

The knight glanced at her and shrugged, "More or less."

"Think I can get through here?" she asked, waving a hand at the wall.

The soldier laughed, "Not sure if you can see, woman. This is a wall, not a door."

Emmeryn just smiled at him like he were an idiot, "Are you certain?"

The man scanned her from top to bottom, and seemed to realize for the first time, that she was wearing a longcoat.

"I can't let anyone through here," he said, seemingly wanting to end the conversation without a fight.

"That's unfortunate," Emmeryn said, and the sword left her sheath.

In hindsight, it wasn't the best move. The fair haired woman only killed the guard because he wasn't ready. The blade struck the gap below his breastplate. As the Valmese man bent over, about to emit a scream, Emm shoved Stefan's sword through his neck.

With a rattle, the soldier fell over. Emm cleaned off the blade, and returned it to the sheath. She opened the secret door, and continued into the city.

**『』**

Heather stood among the crowd and watched the preparations. Chrom offered no resistance to the noose falling around his neck.

Roy, who stood next to Heather wearing a hood, spoke, "You go after Igrene and Solidor. I'll rescue the Prince."

"Understood," Heather agreed, gripping the pommel of her sword.

Glen rested a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful of Solidor," he warned. The ghostly figure retreated from sight and disappeared into the crowd.

Zealot Solidor stepped up to the front of the stage and slammed his spear down on the wood. The sound echoed across the whispering crowd, and drew their attention to the Valmese noble.

"Some of you have tried to rise up against me," Zealot simply said. "And now I will kill your Prince for it. Let this be a warning to not try me again."

"How eloquent," Roy murmured. He began to push his way through the crowd ever so slowly towards Chrom.

Heather made her way towards her cousin, making sure to keep her head down. Her yellow hair would be obvious enough, so Heather did all she could to remain inconspicuous.

In her efforts to remain hidden, she almost missed it.

Chrom, who had slipped his bonds, reached up to the rope and  _ripped_ it out of the wood above. He hurled the loop around his neck off and attacked the soldiers nearest to him with just his bare hands.

_Chrom is Mantled?_ Heather nearly said aloud, staring at the man she'd spent time with as a child.

Thankfully, Roy wasn't nearly as dumbfounded as her. He leapt up onto the stage and drew his sword, taking Zealot and Igrene's attention immediately.

Charging forward, Zealot brandished his spear. Roy pushed Chrom behind him and met the Lord head-on.

Igrene took her bow and had an arrow knocked before she probably realized it. Heather recovered, and reached through her cousin's shadow.

From the darkness at Igrene's feet, her shadow betrayed its owner. Hands gripped her feet, flinging the archer off balance.

The Hand vaulted onto the stage, and took her cousin's attention.

"Traitors have to pay, Igrene," Heather spoke, her voice dropping an octave.

"Every rule has its exceptions," Igrene disagreed. She had an arrow on her bow, and aimed at Heather.

**『』**

Roy deflected Zealot's spear with a stroke of his broadsword. The black haired man followed up with another strike Roy barely managed to block.

The third attack would have hit Roy, had Chrom not punched Zealot in the back. The Valmese man's armor crumpled upon the force of the attack.

"So you're Mantled?" Roy asked between breaths as their opponent fell to the ground.

"Powerarm," Chrom grinned. "I don't need weapons."

Roy chuckled. His mirth was cut short as Zealot's body began to twist and convulse. The older man turned into a vapor of black smoke and floated out of his armor.

The darkness gathered and condensed, taking the form of Princess Lissa.

"Sister?" Chrom spoke, confused.

**『』**

Heather pointed the Prima at her cousin as she leapt to the right, out of the arrow's path. A vortex of images sprung into her eyes, showing her every single drill and exercise Igrene had gone through to improve her archery.

And she found no obvious flaws.

All Heather had on her side was the fact that Igrene didn't have unlimited arrows. And Igrene knew it too, as she started taking more time between shots.

The Hand would have been dead without her Mantle. The Shadowstrider had her shadow skin flittering against her body, tightly covering each vulnerable angle.

Arrows tore off section after section of the shadows as Heather closed the distance. But Igrene was just as lithe. She dodged every stroke of the Prima.

"Dammit!" Heather yelled in frustration as another arrow hit her barrier. Igrene dodged another attack.

"You couldn't save your Queen, and now you can't even save your Prince," Igrene taunted, casting a glance behind Heather.

The Shadowstrider looked over her shoulder, and Igrene leapt off the stage into the crowd.

**『』**

"Sister?" Chrom began to step forward. "What are you—"

"My liege, stop!" Roy shouted all too late.

The frail face of Lissa morphed into Zealot's gaunt features. He leapt up and jabbed a knife through the heart of the Prince.

Chrom's body fell into Zealot's arms, who surprisingly caught him. The Prince's hands lurched to his opponent's neck and began to squeeze with the strength of a Powerarm.

Zealot's form twisted again, and turned into Morgan, who was far shorter than the imposing Lord.

The Prince's hands grabbed at air. His lifeless body did not take long to fall to the ground.

The already screaming crowd erupted into a furor. Their Prince was dead.

There would be blood.

**『』**

Emmeryn's hand found a place right above her heart as Chrom fell to the ground, dead. She'd watched the entirety of events from afar.

Her brother was dead.

All she wanted to do was leap of, sword out, and charge at the Valmese. The voice she'd thought of as Stefan's talked her down. Such an action would have been suicide.

Emm stepped into the shadows as civilians ran every which way. She was unrecognizable in her current state, but she didn't want to chance it.

She needed to find Heather. She needed to find Lissa.

She needed to kill Zealot Solidor.

**『』**

Mia stepped into the small arena. Just over fifty feet across, it only held enough seats for Arulia's most prestigious.

The Overlord and his two Underlords had the highest seats, and the other men and women sat below them, encompassing the fighting pit. The orange clad swordswoman finally looked at her opponents.

All  _four_ of them.

"Rutger  _dor'_ Mirien," Mia spoke, naming the men and women in front of her. "Arya  _di'_ Rwen, Larcei  _di'_ Rwen and Zihark  _dor'_ Beldock."

Clad in red, violet, blue and grey respectively, the four each held a single sword. Said swords were sharp as could be.

Mia glanced at Underlord Guy, who smirked from his vantage point.

Rutger, the one with the red coat, spoke first, "This is strictly business, Mia  _di'_ Arganan. I am sorry it had to be this way." He remembered her, and Mia remembered him. She would be displeased if death ended his day.

The sisters, Arya and Larcei, said in unison, "Fight as hard as you can. We will not hold back."

Zihark nodded, brushing wrinkles out of his grey coat, "This can end quickly, or painfully. The choice is yours."

Overlord Carlyle stood and declared, "Begin."

At once, the four swordbearers formed a diamond shape around her, like points on a compass. They kept their distance, holding their swords out warily.

_They're afraid of me,_ Mia realized.

_Then I'll given them a reason to be._

Mia drew her blade, bent her legs, and held her sword with a single hand. She flexed her fingers, and struck.

Four opponents would overwhelm her within moments. That is, if they could have time to react.

Mia lashed out at Rutger, delivering a crushing blow that he blocked. Dazed from the impact, he stumbled back.

Immediately forgetting about brown haired man, Mia's next target was Larcei. She delivered the similar treatment to the black haired woman, leaving her shaken.

Mia's feet had never moved faster in her life. She danced over to Arya and Zihark and viciously attacked the two of them in a similar fashion.

Rutger swung his blade at her back, but Mia had already moved on to attack Larcei again. The red swordsman was left swinging at air.

The purple haired woman deflected an attack from Zihark and followed up with a cut to his leg. Not waiting to see how badly it affected him, Mia switched her attention to Arya.

Larcei recovered faster than Mia expected, and the orange woman was forced to parry both of their strikes at once. Her sword moved like a viper, stopping each stroke just as it began.

But she forgot about Rutger.

The red swordsman delivered a strike to her back, landing a cut that sent Mia forward in a stumble. She fell to the ground, which gave ample time for the four to regroup.

She'd lost her momentum. Mia doubted she'd be able to get it back.

Good thing she was a Lasher.

None of them would remember that small fact. And their forgetfulness would be their undoing.

Mia lashed Rutger to one of the far walls. As the red man fell to his new point of gravity, Mia did the same to Larcei and Ary, sending them to another part of the wall.

"You're my opponent now," she said to Zihark, who limped from her earlier wound to his leg.

As it would be, Zihark was the least dangerous of the four. Mia could recall how he'd barely won his coat.

Their crossguards locked, and brought them closer together. Mia swept her leg out and kicked Zihark in his wounded leg.

With such a cheap trick, Zihark fell the ground, letting Mia have the opening to decapitate him.

Miraculously, Arya and Larcei broke the lashings that held them at the wall together. The black haired sisters advanced on Mia.

"A Lasher, huh?" Arya said, circling Mia.

"But you're not the only Mantled here," her sister said.

_Shit,_ Mia groaned softly. Partially due to her opponents, and the pain at her back.

Shadows condensed around Arya, while a protective barrier formulated around Larcei.

"Shadowstrider and Protector," Mia whispered. "Not good."

**『』**

Unbeknownst to the fighters below, the Overlord had left the arena. He sought out the man who had traveled with Mia.

He found Matthew and his friends under guard, not too far from the arena.

"How's the fight going?" the oldest of the group asked.

"Well, but that is all I can say," Carlyle said. "I would speak with you, Matthew."

The man wearing the red cloak stood. Carlyle gestured for the younger man to follow him.

"Do you know what that tattoo means?" Carlyle asked.

Matthew shrugged, "It appeared when I picked up the Avvenire for the first time." He patted the side of his belt where a sword would have been, had it not been confiscated.

Carlyle stopped. "You got that by touching the Avvenire?"

"Yes, is that important?" Matthew cocked his head to the side.

"The Avvenire is Naga's blade, just as the Prima is Grima's," Carlyle said. "But that mark…is neither of theirs. It belongs to a third."

"Who?" Matthew asked.

Carlyle ignored his question, and began to ramble aloud, "Even if she fails, you must go on. We cannot let our politics stop Mant's chosen." The bearded man turned back towards Matthew and said, "I'm getting you and your companions out of here. You must continue on your path to the Chasm."

**『』**

Mia let the two sisters step around her. They could make the first move, she decided.

It would turn out to be a mistake. Arya waved her free hand and shadows leapt up from behind Mia, gripping her arms. The Lasher's sword fell from her grip as the shadows tightened around her wrist.

Mia let go of the lash that bound Rutger to the wall.

"Weak," taunted Arya.

"Pathetic," mocked Larcei.

Rutger stepped up to the duo and frowned, "This fight isn't fair."

"She used hers first," Larcei reasoned.

"A Lasher does not beat a Shadowstrider," Rutger argued. "And there are two of you, and one of her."

Arya turned on Rutger, "Whose side are you on?"

"My own," Rutger growled. "Honor dictates that this fight is against what I hold dear."

Arya rolled her eyes, "You're an idiot. Larcei, you know what to do."

Larcei swung her blade at Rutger. The red swordsman blocked it, and struck her chest.

The blade bounced aside.

"Protector, remember?" Larcei smirked. Then she stabbed Rutger through the chest.

Mia found Homer in the Underlord's spot. She made brief eye contact with him before the Underlord averted his eyes.

Arya stabbed Mia through the heart.

**『』**

"Karla, get these four back to the ship the arrived on," Carlyle ordered. "I will delay the others from noticing their absence for as long as I can."

"Understood, Overlord," the woman wearing the white coat said.

Karla left with the four prisoners. Carlyle walked the short distance back to the arena, fearing the worst.

When he stepped back inside, he was greeted with the worst.

The sisters, Arya and Larcei stood victorious over Mia's body. Rutger and Zihark's corpses lay not far away.

Carlyle looked to Homer. The Underlord's expression was downcast, not meeting anyone's gaze.

Guy, in complete contrast, was jubilant. He clapped with the part of the audience that cheered. The rest of the crowd didn't seem to know whether to be pleased or not.

Carlyle took his seat, and said nothing. The ending sight of the battle would not leave his eyes for a very, long time.

**『』**

Anna knelt in front of the yellow haired man.

Claude blinked his white eyes. "Rise," he commanded.

The red haired woman stood and waited for Claude to speak.

"You are one of the last of your family. Between his Hunters, and the Morphs, most of my loyal servants are dead," Claude murmured. "I have not the ability to make you immortal like he made his Hunters.

"But I shall keep you close," Claude promised. "Together, we are going to bring about a new world. A world where we need not deal with other gods, or free will."

"Yes, your holiness," Anna said, bowing her head.

"Come," Claude spoke. "We must depart. I sense the Chasm is where it shall at last begin."


	24. United We Stand, Divided We Fall

**Chapter 24  
United We Stand, Divided We Fall**

**『』**

Fargus rowed the small boat to the beach personally. He was strong enough to manage the task alone, even with four others in the boat.

The old captain couldn't help but notice the muted silence that shrouded his passengers.

Their group was one less than in Ferox, and it took an idiot to realize that had something to do with it.

"You said you didn't want me to wait for ya?" Fargus asked, attempting to make small talk.

"No," Cormag said. "We'll find our own way back. We don't know how long this will take."

"If ya say so," Fargus shrugged, and continued rowing.

**『』**

Lissa had refused to leave her room for over a day.

Under Heather's request, Frederick tried to convince the Princess to exit. She rebutted every advance Frederick tried to initiate.

In short, Heather was perturbed.

The table that had once been the center of revolutionary conversation now had only two occupants, Heather and Roy. Eliwood had fallen to poison, Greil to betrayal, Claude vanished and Chrom to execution.

Faval Lowell. The name burned in her mind, echoing throughout its expanse. Her own _father._

She'd never gotten along with him before, but now she really wanted to shove a knife down his throat.

"Well," began Roy, "we have work to do."

"Do you have a suggestion?" Heather frowned, her hands serving as a pedestal for her forehead.

"I might. Faval and Zealot are the two things keeping this city in fear. If we can sneak in, and take them out, we might be able to raise the citizenry up and remove the rest of the Valmese presence," Roy divulged.

"It's as good of an idea as any," Heather admitted. "I can subdue my father without problem, he's an old man. Igrene and Zealot are another matter."

"True," Roy conceded. "If we have one victory instead of all three, our victory with be quite ephemeral."

"Which is why it'd be best to have a third person who is skilled enough to hold his own against any of them," Heather exhaled, exhausted.

Roy nodded, "Or some form of distraction. Mayhaps we could use Lissa to lure Igrene or Zealot out?"

"That would require her to come out of her room," Heather growled, the idea of the Princess hiding quickly becoming droll.

"She lost her brother. Allow her time to grieve," Roy counseled.

Heather snorted, "As if he would want her to sit around when there's a task to be done. We could very well be dead tomorrow. Faval knows exactly where this place is, and it is only a matter of time before he acts."

"If Faval is the man I remember him to be, then there is no doubt that a trap is in place," a voice declared matter-of-fact.

The Baronetess' hand twitched. She hadn't heard that voice in months.

Roy didn't waste time. He stood from his seat and knelt. Heather turned to see the woman she loved, standing in the doorway with her arms folded.

"Emm?" Heather whispered, seeing a ghost.

"Roy, leave us. I must speak with Heather alone for a few moments," Emmeryn said, her voice lower than the Shadowstrider remembered.

"Of course, my Queen," Roy said. "I shall be in the next room, should either of your require me."

The moment the door closed, signaling Roy's departure, Heather closed the distance between her and the Queen.

"I thought you were dead," whispered Heather. "But now I know I shouldn't have doubted you."

Emmeryn let a grim smile appear on her face, "I'm stronger than I was."

Heather gave Emm a once-over, taking in the ratty longcoat and sword. "I can see," she admired.

The Queen flung her arms around Heather, embracing the woman closely. Emm's worn hair tangled with Heather's well-kept locks.

"Once this is over, I'll bet you have a lot to tell me," Heather guessed, wearing a goofy grin.

"Once this is over, we're going to leave this place," Emm muttered. "I will not be Queen again."

Heather stepped back out of the embrace. She frowned and said, "But you're the Queen."

"Not any longer," Emmeryn shook her head. With dirty hands, she pushed the hairband up to show her mark. A red line passed through the mark of Naga; a scar that Heather guessed ran deeper than it appeared.

"Emm…what did you do?" Heather asked, touching the red scar. Her thumb ran down its bumpy surface.

"My destiny is mine alone," Emm said harshly. "I refused to continue adhering to the dreams I had been having. Do you know what I saw in my future?"

Heather shook her head, and Emm continued without pause, "I saw myself fighting you, and others that no doubt were good people. I _was_ Naga. She'd possessed me, and most likely with my consent."

"Why would you agree to that?" Heather asked.

Emmeryn shook her head, a snarl on her face, "I do not care. I chose to take matters into my own hands. I will not be a puppet."

"But what if that was the only way for something good to happen?" Heather asked, her voice growing small. Emmeryn had come back changed.

Emm was nearly shouting. "I don't care," she said. "I am not a weak woman anymore. I will fight the future and turn it into one I desire."

Heather stepped back, and Emm realized she'd raised her voice. Her tone fell flat, almost muted. "I'm sorry for raising my voice. But I stand by what I said. I have free will, and I don't want to be Queen."

Heather sighed, and stepped back to the woman she loved. "We'll figure this out another day, alright? First, we need to concentrate on taking back our land."

"Agreed," breathed Emmeryn. "Shall we figure that out now, or tomorrow?"

"Is there something you had in mind?" Heather asked.

"It's been months since we've seen each other, and you need to ask that?" Emmeryn stared at Heather with an intense gaze the latter had never experienced.

She found it arousing.

**『』**

Having relocated to a new base of operations, Heather departed to take in her surroundings. Frederick had said that his house was completely safe, but the Shadowstrider was far more dependent on her own analysis.

And Emmeryn was asleep, so there wasn't much planning to do without their Queen. That was Heather's fault, since she probably shouldn't have tired her out like she did.

"But that was a night to remember," Heather grinned, using the worn ether lamps to navigate through the narrow streets.

"I wish you had left the Prima outside of your room," Glen muttered, walking behind her.

Heather blinked, and blushed furiously. She turned and confronted the knight, "Did you watch?"

"Watch? No," Glen shook his head. "But heard? Most definitely."

"I'll remember that for the future," Heather scratched the back of her head sheepishly.

"Please do," Glen said, relieved.

The opportunity was too perfect to pass up. "Did you enjoy what you saw?" Heather smirked.

"I told you, I didn't—"

"Not even a peek?"

"Not one—"

"Not even between your fingers as they covered your eyes?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," Heather huffed, indignantly.

Flabbergasted, Glen argued, "But you were just happy that I had been closing my eyes. Now you're annoyed that I didn't look?"

"Maybe," Heather gave him a sly wink.

Glen threw his arms up in the air, "At least women haven't changed in a few thousand years. You're still damn hard to understand."

"You got that right," the Shadowstrider said, grinning in triumph.

They two companions argued into an alley. Heather broke off midsentence as she saw a figure approaching the two of them.

Ducking against the wall of the alley, Heather cloaked herself with her Mantle. The person continued towards them at a fast pace.

A flicker of light cut through the alley from an ether lamp, and Heather was able to see the man's face.

Claude.

Dismantling her shadows, Heather stepped in front of her brother. "Claude?" she nearly exclaimed.

The high priest stopped and looked at his sister. But his eyes…they were off. In the darkness, they pierced through with white light. It were almost as if Claude's eyes glowed.

"Claude?" Heather whispered, uncertain.

With agility that rivaled Heather's, Claude grabbed the Prima from its sheath. The black blade glinted in the night.

Glen opened his mouth to say something as Heather's brother took his vessel. Only screams emerged as Claude stabbed Glen through the heart.

The knight fell to the ground, his spiritual aura turning physical. Blood colored the cobblestones as Heather leapt to her companion's side.

When she looked up, Claude had vanished.

**『』**

Rennac closed his trunk, having packed his last article of clothing. Having married L'Arachel the night before, today marked the beginning of the journey they were going to embark upon.

While the mere thought of spending a month traveling around Valm with the woman whom both loved and irritated him was enthralling, Rennac couldn't shake one particular thought.

"Pelleas…" Rennac whispered. "I'm sorry for leaving. And I'm sorry for what I did."

Thankfully L'Arachel was in her room, packing her things. Rennac stepped up to the mirror mounted on his wall. He reached to his shirt and pulled down the side on his left.

The black mark of Naga rested above his heart, taunting him.

"I did what I did for the good of Ylisse," Rennac whispered, reassuring himself. "Valm will not be a threat any longer. But then why do I feel like I'm betraying my own people…?"

The Hand had not expected his mission to destabilize Valm to take as long as it did. He did not expect to fall for a girl, or get married. Nor to become friends with the most powerful man on this side of Mira.

A friend he'd be betraying. No, already betrayed.

"Damn these oaths," Rennac muttered. "Dare I break them and warn him…?"

No. Rennac was a man of his word. He'd done his job, and now it was time to reap the benefits.

"Rennnnnnaaaaaaac!" came L'Arachel's call.

"Coming!" Rennac responded, closing his tunic back up.

Decision made.

**『』**

Pelleas waited in the meeting room. He was early, but that gave him to speak with his daughter.

"I'll somehow survive this month without him," Pelleas chuckled. "Rennac is my most trusted advisor. He wouldn't leave in good conscience unless he knew I could handle affairs without him."

"That really only leaves me and the Morph," Lara said, casting a wary glance towards Ursula. She said nothing, but merely stared straight ahead.

"Rennac suggested she be a part of my guard," Pelleas shrugged. "Keep an eye on her, if you wish."

The remaining four Kings entered the room within minutes of each other. Pelleas' hand strayed to the Devourer, his obsidian sword at his belt. He'd been doing that as of late.

Greetings were exchanged among the Kings, and then they entered right into business.

"We need new rulers for Bern and Agustria," Pelleas explained. "This will be our only topic of discussion today, given its urgency. Per the fact that Eltshan was victim to Zephiel, we shall speak of Agustria first."

"Did Eltshan have any kin?" Joshua asked in a flippant tone.

"No," replied Hayden. "Ashnard, the former King of Daein, made sure of that."

Pelleas narrowed his eyes. His father had killed Eltshan's family so that it made sure the young noble would be King. The purple haired man sighed, for he saw no reason to mention that Ashnard and Eltshan had arranged that between themselves.

"Then it seems we must either choose someone from Agustrian nobility or one of our own," Pelleas said.

"The natural choice would be to pick the highest member of Agustrian nobility and make him King," Alvis said, in a rare vocal moment.

"Do we know who that is?" Hector asked.

Hayden shrugged, "I think it's some man named Beowolf. I'm unsure if my information is up to date, however."

"That will be your job for the next time we meet," Pelleas said. "And as for Bern…?"

Predictably, Hayden spoke up, "I propose we have my son Innes wed Guinevere. I have full confidence he can lead Bern back to what it used to be."

"Would that not be an unfair advantage to Frelia?" Hector asked, frowning. "Suddenly you'd have two Kingdoms' resources at your hands, when the rest of us have but one."

"Shall we call it to a vote?" Hayden asked.

_Dammit,_ Pelleas cursed.

"I second," Alvis crowed.

"Very well," Pelleas said. "Hayden, you may go first."

The older man nodded, "I vote in favor of myself."

Alvis was next. He coughed, clearing his throat. "Hayden," he intoned.

All eyes turned to Joshua, the only true wildcard left among the Kings. He lazily met each of his cohorts' eyes and said, "Hayden. Marry the bitch."

"Very well," Pelleas said, clenching the pommel of his sword. Lara's hand rested on his shoulder, in an effort of comfort. "You shall have full control over the preparations as well, Hayden."

The oldest in the room smiled lightly, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

**『』**

Henry was thrown back into his cell. His shirt no longer could be called the article of clothing it had been intended to be. It now resembled straps of cloth hanging from his body.

Gangrel shook his head as he shut the cell door, "I don't want this to happen, brother. Simply tell me where Apocalypse is, and I'll let you leave this city alive."

Henry was shaking as he propped himself up enough to look his brother in the eye. "No," he rasped, and collapsed.

Gangrel cussed beneath his breath and stormed away.

The dead man looked over at Henry, his red eyes full of judgement, "You're a fool."

"Maybe," Henry whispered in a brief bout of sanity. Then his mad giggles began, tearing apart the single shred of clarity he'd possessed for a mere moment.

Running a hand through his black hair, the dead man sighed, "One of these days, you won't be coming back to this cell."

Henry snarled as he tried to get up. His body was in too much pain to move.

"Or one of these days you'll finally tell him. There is no winning this scenario," the dead man chided.

Henry glared at the other bed's occupant, "That's what you think."

**『』**

"They caught up quick," Colby observed, looking down at the battle.

Micaiah nodded, "The Ylisseans move quickly. This is they territory, whereas the Valmese are unused to the sand. That should tip the scales in their favor."

"Never in all my years have I seen a battle this foolish," Colby chuckled. "The Ylisseans are at their match. Even with their terrain advantage, I can't foresee a victory in their future."

"I think they might just surprise you," Micaiah said. "But if you think this battle is foolish, you should have seen some of their earlier fights. Some of the most desperate I've seen in thousands of years."

"I doubt that," Colby frowned.

Volug shook his head, "It is unwise to doubt a god."

Colby rolled his eyes, "Me and Yune go way back. Be it in this world, or any of the others I've seen."

"I have noticed you adapt quite well," Micaiah observed, not taking her eyes off the battle.

"It was odd at first," Colby mused. "First time I leapt, I found myself in the company of some folks that were both familiar, yet unknown to me. One of them, Sain, had the same face as a Sain I knew. Turns out every world uses the same souls or something for its people. I can't pretend to understand death."

"You mean what comes after," Micaiah clarified.

"Oh, yeah. I guess I know death pretty well. I made the mistake of getting attached in my first extended visit," Colby sighed. "It's a bitch when I see her face when traveling between worlds. Same face, same person, but completely unknown to me."

"I apologize for her death," Micaiah said, her tone soft. "Mant should have told you about your Mantle's constraints sooner rather than later."

"He should've," Colby nodded. "But he didn't. And I can't change the past."

"We will change the future," Volug growled, staring at the sky.

The other two followed his gaze. Micaiah nodded, "Indeed. Soon, it will be time to truly fight back."

Colby turned his head back to the battle. "Now," he began, "I spent one life as a tactician. Was pretty good at bluffing my way through the beginning. But even an out of practiced fool like me can tell that the Valmese are going to win unless the Ylisseans do some miraculous shit."

**『』**

"Hello, Uncle," Hugh greeted as he finally found the source of the dark magic. Etzel stood within a swarm of shadows that swam in the sand.

"You…" Etzel frowned. His mind clearly could not remember the name of his nephew.

"Hugh, son of Canas," the purple haired mage said. Since Hugh wore no blue, the surrounding Valmese soldiers didn't take the time to attack him. They marched onward to engage the Ylisseans.

Etzel turned so he faced Hugh. "Leave," he advised. "I have no quarrel with you. It is your father whom I wish to vanquish."

"Then it concerns me," Hugh shook his head. Raising his hands, fireballs formed. "Therefore, I must fight you while my father is otherwise occupied."

Etzel wasted no time in replying. Instead, a razor thin bolt of darkness hurled towards the younger mage.

Hugh conjured a shield of flames, deflecting the dark magic. From behind his fiery borders, a stream of lava erupted from the mage's hands.

The dark mage stumbled out of the way, not as agile as he used to be. Etzel's monocle fell off in the scuffle, rendering his vision partially blind.

In an effort to buy time for a search for his eyepiece, Etzel summoned a wraith of shades. It was humanoid in shape, with a scythe for an arm rather than a hand.

"Dammit!" swore Hugh. He lunged aside as the shadow blade attempted to gore him, or sever his head off. Hugh wasn't too sure.

The wraith made for a second advance. It paused in its action, scythe-hand half raised. When it continued to not move, Hugh looked at Etzel.

Marisa withdrew her blade from the dark mage. She glared at Hugh, though there was only concern in the gaze, "Don't run off like that again."

**『』**

Linus' claymore fell to the ground as a well-placed strike from Lloyd slashed his wrist. The bulkier brother foolishly tried to reclaim his fallen weapon, and Lloyd punished him with a kick to the chest.

Lloyd watched his brother collapse to the ground. He made no move to stand back up.

The battlefield around them vanished, and Lloyd knelt by his brother. Linus managed a shaken grin, "Not bad."

"You got over confident in your Mantle," Lloyd observed. "Raw power can beat most anyone, except those disciplined in speed."

Linus laughed, his strength receding from the various cuts Lloyd had scored, "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"It shouldn't have ended this way," Lloyd murmured over the battlefield's chaos. "But circumstances got out of hand. I will be your doom, it seems. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, does it not?"

Linus nodded, "Make it quick, if I'm allowed that much."

"You are my family. I will honor your last request," Lloyd nodded. From his belt, the swordsman removed a knife. He drew back his arm, and drove the blade into Linus' chest.

A piercing cold struck Lloyd's chest. He looked down, and saw Linus had stabbed him with _his_ knife in the same spot.

"You…" Lloyd mouth hung open, quiet words leaking out. Linus' arm gave out, and all that supported the Lord General ceased.

Lloyd's body fell to the ground. "Damn…" whispered the General. His eyes didn't close, but he saw nothing.

**『』**

Zelgius carved his way through foes without even using his Mantle. Until he encountered three opponents that seemed to have some rank.

Stabbing his claymore into the ground, Zelgius addressed them, "You three are unlike the others. Give me your names, so I may know who I have killed. I am Zelgius Steelwind, General and commander of all Valmese forces. You will find me to be no ordinary opponent."

The first man stabbed his sword into the ground in a similar fashion, "I am Captain Ike, soldier of Ylisse."

The second patted a few wrinkles out of his robes, "Master Canas, at your service. It's an honor to meet the General Steelwind in person."

The final man cracked his fingers and smirked, "Pent, Mage General of Ylisse."

Zelgius nodded, "It will be an honor to cross swords, and magic, with you. May Naga carry your souls to the afterlife with the highest honors."

"I think you might be making assumptions," Pent challenged, his hands cackling with electricity.

Anticipating the assault, Zelgius dodged the lightning. But unlike the slow evasion Pent expected, Zelgius moved as if her were void of all clothing.

The Lightfoot grinned as his Mantle finally came in use. He was as fast as a Wyvern, and the armor did nothing to hinder that.

It was almost a shame, the display from some of Ylisse's finest.

Ike, the only physical combatant of the three, met Zelgius in battle first. It took only one stroke for the General to realize the enemy Captain was untested, and lacked the vast experience his opponent had.

Though Zelgius was fully surprised when Ike's sword began to burn.

"Flamewalker?" the General addressed lazily as their battle began. Behind Ike, Canas had begun to conjure something dark. Pent trailed slightly behind.

Zelgius kicked off the ground, and darted around Ike's back. The young swordsman attempted to twist his body quick enough to parry.

The red armored General cleaved Ike in half.

The minor victory resulted in both dark and lightning magic colliding at Zelgius' back. The dark weakened the armor, disintegrating some of his plate mail. The lightning proceeded to shock Zelgius.

But General Steelwind didn't become the leader of the Valmese army only to be taken down by lightning. Swinging around, Zelgius _threw_ his sword into Pent.

The Mage General died before he hit the ground, his body torn apart by the broadsword's path.

Canas' face was one of horror as his colleague fell to the ground in pieces.

Zelgius had his sword back in his hands a second later. He turned to Canas, "Get your army out of here. Let us retreat, and I will not attack. But we shall settle this at Plegia's capital."

**『』**

"The Chasm, a gaping pit waiting to swallow any fool who dares try to brave its depths," Cormag muttered for the other three to hear. "But I assume our destination is the center citadel."

"Architecture of the gods?" Matthew asked, referring to the chains that held up the fortress in the center.

"That, or the strangest magic I've ever seen," Sain murmured, lost in the picturesque landscape.

The quartet journeyed to where they presumed the best place to enter the citadel was. A tense silence enveloped the group, only to be broken when they saw just who awaited them.

**『』**

"Guard this spot," Ephidel ordered. "No one gets past the two of you, understood?"

Karel and Cath nodded. The latter asked, "Do you expect trouble?"

The leader of the Morphs nodded, "Yes. Either Hunters, or the enemies Grima has whispered to me about. Whichever it might be, buy me as much time as you can."

The Timeseer and Morph let their leader depart across the chain that connected to the citadel.

Not ten minutes passed before Cath's Seeker abilities came in hand. "A Vanisher, Nightwatch and Flamewalker are approaching."

Karel blinked, "Odd combination. They heading towards us?"

"Yes," Cath replied, resting her hands on the knives at her sides.

"Then it seems we have a job to do," Karel smirked. "It's been a long time since I've gotten to kill anyone with a Mantle."

**『』**

Leila had to restrain Matthew upon seeing the man who'd sparked their quest. Karel, wearing his blue longcoat, stood at the end of one of the chains connecting to the cliff.

Behind him was Matthew's sister, Cath.

"Wait!" hissed the purple clad woman when Matthew realized that both of his focuses were right in front of him.

Their hiding would prove fruitless, as Karel seemingly knew where they were. "Come on out," he called. "I understand we have some business to finish."

"You killed her!" Matthew shouted, the buried anger surfacing after months.

Karel shrugged, "I've killed a lot of people. You'll need to be more specific."

"Make your peace with whatever god you believe in," the Vanisher said. "Die with the little honor you have left."

"You're mistaken," Karel laughed. "I have no honor left. Cath, stay back. I will take these four on alone."

"Is that wise?" Cath asked, squinting at Matthew and Leila. She wore the face of one who was deep in thought.

"That's an order," the Timeseer said, drawing his blade.

**『』**

_Matthew swung his white sword at Karel in an overhanded chop._

Karel began to bring his blade into the proper angle just as Matthew began to swing. The two blade hit each other, and Matthew disappeared.

_The brown haired man reappeared in the same place, and went for a low stab._

Karel leapt to the side and prepared to deliver a killing blow to the Vanisher.

_A rapier knocked his sword off course. The purple clad woman kicked his legs out from under him._

The swordsman danced back, abandoning his strike and evading the hiss of the rapier.

_The one with the lance had somehow gotten behind him, and stabbed at his back._

The red sword spun in Karel's hand and knocked the spear aside. In a follow up stroke, Karel slashed the green knight across the chest. The black haired man smirked when he felt his blade strike flesh in between armor.

_The Flamewalker came forward next, his entire being ablaze. From his hand, fire shot at Karel._

The Timeseer leaned back in time to avoid the ball of fire. Using the momentum, Karel hand-sprung backwards.

This put him right next to an appearing Matthew.

For the briefest of moments, Karel's vision blurred. He could not see what Matthew would do next.

Panicking, Karel rolled to the side, completely out of the Vanisher's range.

"Did you…counter my vision?" Karel whispered. His eyes fell on the Avvenire in Matthew's hands, and realization came over him.

At that moment, they had both seen the future. They knew what each other was going to do, and therefore neither could plan in advance. Their visions canceled themselves out.

Unfortunately for Matthew, his visions were far less likely to happen.

Still, Karel considered the Avvenire's holder as the most dangerous of his foes. His gaze shifted entirely to the Vanisher.

_Matthew disappeared and flitted into sight directly in front of Karel._

Karel raised his blade and deflected the strike. In return, the blue swordsman launched several quick strikes at Matthew.

_Blur._

Adapting with difficulty, Karel fought Matthew blind for several exchanges. But he was still the quicker of the two. Deftly, the man in blue kicked the Vanisher in the stomach, sending the younger fighter to the ground.

Preparing the make his first kill of the day, Karel raised the blade for an overhanded chop.

_Karel swung his blade down, and hit Matthew with only air._

"What?" Karel said aloud, completely taken by surprise. He continued with the motion of the chop without stopping to consider the vision.

His sword was no longer in his hands.

"Checkmate," Matthew smirked, and stabbed the Avvenire into Karel's throat.

**『』**

"I'm thankful and all, but how the hell did you do that?" Matthew asked, dumbfounded.

Sain grinned, holding the red sword broadsword he'd taken from Karel, "When he attacked me, I Snapped. Thankfully, I was able to figure out that I was a Lurcher."

"Lucky indeed," Cormag chuckled. "It seems it was fortunate you were able to figure it out so quickly."

"Seeing that fight in Ferox helped," Sain said.

Two daggers left their sheathes, and turned the four companions to the person they'd almost forgotten.

Cath had her weapons raised, her gold eyes focusing on Matthew. "I know you," she said.

Walking forward with space between steps, Matthew approached her, "I should hope so, Cath. I am your brother, after all." He could tell something strange had happened.

"Stay back!" Cath hissed, waving her knives about. "I don't know you!"

"Cath, it's me, Leila! And Matthew, your brother!" urged his companion.

The orange haired girl let one of the blades slip from her fingers, and then the other. She blinked, and the gold in her eyes receded. Hazel replaced gold.

"Matthew?" she murmured, and began to faint.

The red clad man disappeared and appeared at her side, catching his sister.


	25. A Clash of Gods

**Chapter 25  
A Clash of Gods**

Colby spun his axe in his hand, and knocked aside the soldier's spear. With the flat of his weapon, he cracked the man's skull.

Beside him, Volug ripped his foes apart in his wolf form. In his wake, bodies lay strewn with their throats exposed in a bloody mess.

Micaiah stood in the back, flinging bolts of light at the Valmese soldiers. Every single spell his the red clad soldiers in their eyes, blinding or killing them.

The last few Valmese began to run away back to their central army. Volug refused to let them flee, and chased them down.

"Foolish raiding party," Micaiah spat. "We wasted valuable time here."

Colby shrugged, "I don't think we would have gotten much further. At least not in time."

"What do you mean?" Micaiah asked as Volug ran back to her side.

"That," Colby pointed at the dark looming shape that steadily approached the Ylissean army.

**『』**

"They're retreating inside the capital," Hugh said, putting a hand over his eyes to ward away the sun.

"At least we have them in one place now," Marisa muttered. "Bastards just keep on running, don't they?"

The mage nodded, and looked over his shoulder at their army. The Ylisseans had regrouped from their recent battle, and the loss of the Lord General.

The Mantled General had been forced to take his place.

Across the skies, a reverberating sound echoed. It pierced the clouds, and every ear in the vicinity.

"What in Naga's name was that?" Hugh mumbled, his hands over his ears in pain.

Clouds gathered above, and a winged beast descended in regal majesty.

Bahamut.

**『』**

It took the majority of Heather's concentration to focus on the task at hand. Ever since her beloved's return, the noblewoman couldn't keep her mind off Emm.

Now was the worst possible time for her mind to be focused on other things. Igrene was riding up the street surrounded by a regiment of guards.

It was as good a chance as any, at this point.

Heather had perched on a roof, while Roy's remaining soldiers were between buildings below. They only had one shot.

As planned, they let the group pass. But just as Igrene was directly in front of Heather, she leapt off the building.

The Shadowstrider made use of her dark armor as she tackled Igrene out of her saddle. The Valmese drew their weapons, but at Heather. They quickly were distracted by the Ylisseans, led by Roy.

It was fortunate that Igrene did not know how to use any weapon aside from a bow. Or else Heather's cousin would have resisted far more to the knife at her neck.

Without sparing a thought for the traitor, Heather cut her kin's throat.

**『』**

Frederick paused in his thinking at the sound from down the hallway. Footsteps.

Heather and Roy had left not too long ago, and Emmeryn was in Lissa's room with Frederick's charge. That left no one welcome that could be stepping down the hallway.

Reaching to the back of his belt, Frederick retrieved his knife. He began to creep down the hallway towards the looming sound.

A woman was looking around the meeting room. Frederick sighed in relief when he identified her. It was just an Anna.

"Can I help you?" Frederick asked. He was relieved, but still suspicious. Why would an Anna be here?

"Oh!" Anna said, gasping in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was up here."

"It's all right," Frederick replied evenly.

Hoping to ease the situation, Anna extended her hand to shake Frederick's. The servant complied, giving the merchant a firm grip.

Anna smirked. Less than a second later, she plunged a knife into Frederick's heart. Her hand that had previously held Frederick's latched over his mouth to silence his screams.

"Shhhh…" whispered Anna, as her face, voice and gold eyes changed to Frederick's. "It'll all be over soon."

**『』**

"Do you hear that sound?" Henry whispered, arching his neck to see as much as he could out his window.

"I do. So it isn't just in your head…most likely," the dead man admitted.

Ignoring his cellmate, Henry strained his hearing as much as he could. "It sounds like armor hitting stone…as if someone was invading the city."

"Perhaps someone is," suggested the dead man. "After all, you wouldn't know."

"Your sarcasm is appreciated, as never," Henry hissed. "I think I can hear them getting closer…"

"I think that's on our end," the dead man chuckled.

Henry turned around to see Gangrel standing at his door. Henry's brother sighed, and said, "Unless you're ready to tell me where it is…?"

Henry laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and—

Something heavy hit his head.

**『』**

"Relax," Hector advised, drinking his wine. "It's a wedding, and our enemies have been defeated."

Pelleas nodded, though he didn't feel at ease. Innes and Guinevere had been wed, and had long since left the reception.

"Go watch the doors," Pelleas quietly commanded Ursula.

The spot she had occupied behind him was quickly assumed by his spy, Leen. _Never alone,_ Pelleas thought.

Hayden was the only remaining man at the high table. Alvis was skulking in the corner, away from most of the attendants. Joshua had gallivanted off to Naga knows where.

Hector and his bodyguard Geitz drank heavily. Pelleas wanted to join in, but the shifty gaze Hayden kept looking about with stopped him.

Pelleas was broken out of his trance by Hayden. The King of Frelia stood up at the high table and loudly announced, "As of this day, I declare war on Daein."

"Are you drunk?" Hector asked, all mirth gone from the room.

There was a maniacal glint in Hayden's eye. "Not in the slightest," he responded. And he snapped his fingers.

A woman screamed. Pelleas turned to see on of Hayden's men stabbing Ursula. Another scream, and Leen collapsed behind him.

The High King leapt up and with his sword, murdered the assailant. But Hayden's men were everywhere. Geitz, drunk as could be, barely felt his head being removed.

Hayden himself picked up a crossbow, and shot Hector through the heart just as the King of Ostia stood.

Pelleas saw red, and staggered back from the Frelians. He murmured several words under his breath, and the darkness came to his hands.

A swirling vortex encompassed the room, swallowing the Frelians. The darkness engulfed them, decaying their flesh so that only skeletons remained.

When it cleared, Hayden was missing. Alvis stood in the middle of the room, a fireball in his hand.

He flipped his hood back, and spoke, "Hayden went ahead. I've been ordered to stop you at all costs."

"Such a lapdog," Pelleas spat, shaking in anger. "You won't stop me."

The Devourer was at the ready before Alvis even threw his first attack. Pelleas smashed the fireball aside when it came, the black flames of his sword proving to be superior.

Alvis attacked with more ferocity, his flames nearly swallowing Pelleas. The High King's cloak caught on fire, and he was forced to abandon it.

Pelleas threw the cloak at Alvis' face. The King swatted it away, burning the fabric away.

And giving Pelleas enough time to let his sword find its way into Alvis.

He withdrew the blade, and fled his own castle through the bodies of his soldiers and servants. He could only hope Lara escaped.

**『』**

Luck would have it that Cath awoke as they arrived at the entrance of the citadel. However, fate being the bitch it was, put a robed figure there.

"The ceremony is not yet complete," he whispered, his voice carrying to the five companions.

"Ephidel?" Cath spoke, rubbing her eyes.

The golden eyed man turned on the spot, fixing the companions with a haggard stare. He waved his hand, muttering under his breath.

"Oh, shit," Cormag said as the platform began to shake. Ephidel fled inside as stone hands gripped the side of the floor. The rest of the creature was hanging off the side, still pulling itself up.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Matthew drew the Avvenire.

"It's Titan," Cath quickly spoke. "A golem made of stone."

"Oh, lovely," Leila said drily.

"Much like yourself," Sain quipped.

Matthew glared, "Watch it, Sain."

Titan pulled himself up onto the platform. Sizing in at four times the height of Cormag, the stone creature roared. The five humans put their hands over the ears awkwardly while holding weapons.

They exchanged glances, and Cormag took several steps forward. He lit his body on fire, and held his blade up.

"Sain, get behind him. We need to make this quick," Matthew ordered. The green knight began to edge around.

Titan seemed to focus on Cormag, given the flashy display. Matthew and Leila backed him up, though neither could do much against such a foe. Cath hung behind, understanding only part of the plan.

The golem struck, his large fist arching toward Cormag. Matthew stepped in, and stopped the strike with the Avvenire. The unbreakable blade didn't fail him, as Titan roared angrily. Leila tackled Matthew out of the way of the second fist that the brown haired man had not seen coming.

This gave Cormag enough time to ram his sword in between two of the stones that comprised Titan. "Now!" he shouted, cueing Sain.

The Lurcher pulled on the sword, pulling it further into the creature from behind. He continued to pull in an attempt to either knock the golem off its feet or off the platform.

Titan did not move until Cath joined in, pushing on her side. Titan tumbled, magnetically getting tugged backwards.

Sain jumped aside at the last moment, letting the golem fall down to his dark doom in the Chasm.

"That was surprisingly easy," Matthew commented, observing how far they had come.

"No time to chat," Cath said. "Ephidel's inside."

**『』**

Ephidel sliced the knife across his hand, letting the blood drip on the altar. The room he had constructed the ceremony in was the antechamber of the citadel. An entire room, completely open with the altar he'd constructed in the middle.

No time, no time…

His hair was disheveled, and his Morph body was wracked with wear for the first time. He murmured the words of power he needed, and gasped as his Mantle was sucked out of him.

No longer a Summoner. Ephidel felt empty, the first time feeling something since his transformation.

"Now or never, you fool," Ephidel spat at himself. Footsteps rang out against the dust covered floor. The Morph made a decision, and slammed his cut hand down on the altar.

Ephidel felt power lash out at him, and knock him backward off his feet. He slid across the floor, ending up only a few dozen feet away from Cath's group.

A bald man had appeared on the altar. He stood from his kneeling position, and flicked his purple eyes open. Breathing deeply, he looked at Ephidel.

"Abomination," he intoned, the deep voice carrying a subtle power. Raising a hand toward the Morph, he declared, "I am Grima, god of destruction. Naga did not create you, and nor did I have a hand in your fell magic, abomination. Your time is at an end."

A bolt of purple struck Ephidel in the heart.

**『』**

"Knoll," Grima called, still standing on the altar. "Julia, Tormod, Levin, Ishtar, Lyndis, Devdan, Bartre, Wolt and Robin. Your master needs you, my Hunters."

One by one, each Hunter appeared in a flash of darkness. Each wore identical cloaks, the color of purple that obscured all features sans their face.

"You called, my god?" addressed the one who seemed to be their leader.

"I am weak, Robin," Grima spoke. "I have need of the power of a god that has been taken from me."

"We are prepared," Robin said, kneeling before his god.

Grima waved his hand, and the mystical aura that surrounded the Hunters vanished, leaving them no different from Matthew or any of the others.

Luckily, only Grima faced the doorway. A flash of light in contrast to Grima and his Hunters radiated throughout the room.

All eyes turned toward the doorway, to see a woman and a man. One was an Anna, yet another of the many identical sisters. And the other was priest who had the longest yellow hair Matthew had ever seen. In fact, he reminded him of Heather from early on in their journey.

"Grima," the priest called out haughtily. "You finally show your face."

"And you have a new face," Grima responded, stepping down from the altar. "It suits you, Naga."

Naga frowned, "Don't play nice with me, you fiend. You will not leave here alive."

Grima laughed, "You're such a treat. How I've missed you over the millennia."

The god snapped her fingers, and the sword that was in Matthew's hands vanished. Mere moments later, it was in Naga's hand.

"Avvenire," she said, "and Prima." In her other hand, was the sword Heather had taken inside Mount Prism. Each was the opposite of the other, two sword forged to be halves of a whole.

A sword for each god.

"I will enjoy prying my weapon from you dead hands," Grima swore, no longer holding the tone of mirth he'd had previously.

Naga crossed the blades, and smirked, "Since you no longer have need of them, I'll take your Hunters off your hands as well."

As the god in a human body moved to do so, Grima tried to stop her. A bolt of purple shot from his hands, but unlike Ephidel, Naga was ready for it.

She threw Anna in front of her with magic, letting the redhead take the hit. The Hunters fell to the floor at the same time, no longer protected by Grima's blessing.

Growling, Grima summoned a scythe of black metal. He leapt at Naga, and she did the same with her swords. The two collided with a collage of light, and disappeared.

All but one of the Hunters vanished as well.

"Tormod," Cormag grunted, readying his weapon.

The red haired man grinned, and began to juggle three fireballs. "Ready or not, here I burn," he said.

**『』**

Thousands of miles above Mira, Naga and Grima clashed.

The Avvenire and Prima met the scythe, each exchange having the power behind it to destroy cities.

Neither let up, each furious with the other for deeds centuries old.

Had any human been looking through a spyglass at the sky, they might have seen the battle as shooting stars.

Little did they know, that the fate of the world depended on the battle of gods above.

**『』**

Mant breathed cold air as the heat of body left him. It was done.

He looked at the Chasm, and the citadel within the center of it. There was his journey's end, and the start of the next.

He needed to move quickly. A god he might be, but one of speed he was not.

"I hope Yune's doing better than I am," he muttered, as he began to arduous journey to the citadel.

**『』**

Mira was hardly void of strange happenings. Such things were to be expected with a world of Mantles.

But in three separate locations, something odd happened. Something that even the people of Mira ran in fear from.

Just outside the capital cities of Valm, Plegia and Ylisse, towers erupted from the ground. Black structures made of obsidian, as ugly as a dead tree's presence in an orchard.

They stood stalwart, awaiting their destiny. Waiting for a god's chosen to venture within.

Waiting…


	26. In the Dragon's Maw

**Chapter 26  
In the Dragon's Maw**

**『』**

Matthew no longer had a weapon, but that didn't stop him from vanishing into a tackle, knocking Tormod off his feet.

The other four were quick to make their move. Sain fumbled with his Mantle, but began to pull Tormod toward the others, with Matthew in tow. Cath crept forward, guarded by her knives. Leila stayed by Cath, since she didn't have the Mantled or skill to leap right in. Cormag, unbothered by fire, jumped at Tormod as Matthew detached himself.

Unfortunately, Tormod was a warrior who had been training for centuries. The five companions ultimately posed no threat to him.

A sweeping tornado of flames engulfed the Hunter and Cormag. Both were unharmed, but the fight between the two didn't cease.

Nor did it last long, since Cormag's crippled arm proved too much of a disadvantage. Tormod delivered a kick to the knight's chest, knocking him out of the flames.

Everything stopped.

Or at least, Tormod and his flames did.

A blue haired man at the entrance to the antechamber held his hand forth. He wore an old style of regal clothes that predated Cormag's time.

"This foe is beyond all of you," he said. "But to me, he is but an ant."

The flames slowly began to move again, as if the effect of the newcomer had worn off. But he seemed to not care at all, and walked right through the fire.

The companions could not see what happened, but the torrent of fire faded away. Tormod lay on the ground, unmoving.

Matthew appeared behind the mysterious man and asked, "Who are you?"

"You can call me Mant, god of Mantles," he spoke, his voice sounding similar to those of Naga and Grima's.

"Great," Cormag deadpanned.

"We have much to speak about," Mant began, "but first, let us get out of this accursed place."

**『』**

"I haven't seen this kind of absurdity since I met a man named Vincent," Colby muttered, watching Bahamut descend down to the ground. The metal dragon landed between the two armies, and roared.

"Damn," Micaiah swore. "Get on Volug's back, they're going to need our help."

"Can you defeat it?" Colby asked as he did as was commanded. Micaiah got on first, and Colby sat behind her.

Volug growled at the extra weight of the massive pirate.

"I'm a god, albeit a weak one," Micaiah said, her eyes flashing. "I am Yune, mistress of chaos. The battlefield is where I am most powerful."

"You never answered my question," shouted Colby as the wolf began to run.

"Hopefully!" she replied.

**『』**

Pelleas had no time to mourn the death of his friend. Luck was the only reason he escaped the castle alive.

He was alone, friendless and without allies. All those that had served him, or called him friend, were dead. Rennac was gone, a fact that Pelleas' paranoid mind found suspicious.

And Lara. Pelleas didn't know if his daughter lived or not.

But if there was any place she would go upon the castle getting attacked, it'd be their base of intelligence in the city.

The High King snuck through said building's window, struggling all the while. Dark magic dissolved the glass, permitting him entrance.

As soon as he let his foot touch the ground, a knife slithered to his neck.

"Thank Naga, you're alive," breathed Lara upon realizing who she'd come upon.

**『』**

"Trust me, this is the way," Heather said as she led the group through the sewer. Ether torch in hand, the Shadowstrider guided Emmeryn and Roy through a rat infested tunnel.

The Queen followed Heather without complaint of the surroundings, while Roy shied away from many of the rats.

"I never knew of any passageways through sewers," Roy commented as the trio trudged through the water.

"A secret kept between the Hands and the royal family," Emmeryn replied curtly. "In case situations like this were to arise."

"Though we assumed we'd need it for getting out of the castle, not in," Heather cut in. "And for saving the Queen, not killing a Baron and Usurper."

"Oh, how times change," Emmeryn muttered with snark.

"And people," Heather said to herself, glancing at Emmeryn for a moment.

**『』**

"I'm worried about them," Lissa murmured.

Frederick nodded, "That is understandable."

Lissa stood up, relying on her cane. With its assistance, she hobbled to the window. The sun had just begun to rise, casting long shadows over the occupied city.

The Princess' servant stepped up beside her, and folded his hands behind his back. The two watched the sun rise to a blinding level.

Unbeknownst to Lissa, Frederick extracted a knife from his sleeve.

This would be the last sunrise the Princess would ever see.

**『』**

"I haven't much time," Mant spoke, "if I am to make it to Valm's capital and Ylisstol as well."

"You can start by telling us what's going on," Cormag said, his calm voice unwavering.

"You five have entered into a battle that has been growing for centuries. Grima and Naga have always argued, and fought. Never on this scale, though," Mant grunted. He ran a hand through his blue hair in annoyance. "They got humans to fight their battles again, and the war between Ylisse and Valm is their product."

"Where do we fit in?" Matthew asked.

"You were Naga's lackeys. You brought her the sword she wanted, and indirectly found the Prima," Mant folded his arms, creating creases in his noble tunic. "She cares nothing for your lives."

"Lovely," Leila muttered dryly. "Gods sure do love caring."

"Neither does Grima. They both have always seen you as pawns in their battle. Yune and I, we've grown to be different."

"Yune?" Matthew asked.

"God of chaos. She's trying to take care of the battle in Plegia right now. The both of us are mere servants in comparison to Naga and Grima," Mant replied bitterly.

"But we are tired of this never ending conflict between the two gods," Mant continued. "We hope to seal them away once and for all."

"You said that you were like servants in comparison," Sain observed.

Mant gave a wry grin, "Cannot those you put your trust in topple you as a consequence?"

"I have a better question," huffed Cath, still shaken from all the events that followed her awakening. "Why save us?"

"There are some things I need you to gather," Mant smirked.

**『』**

"There is seldom something that can render me speechless," Farina shouted over the wind. Clouds had coalesced, forcing the Pegasus Knight to fly below the grey barrier.

Right next to Bahamut.

"I trust this is one of those things?" Lalum replied in kind while riding tandem with her partner.

"Not even close! I once saw a fight between a Feroxi and a wolf!" Farina grinned. "You should have seen the Feroxi's reaction when the wolf bit off his d—"

Farina's mount dove in time to avoid one of Bahamut's claws.

"Its body is made of metal! Get me close enough so I can shock it!" Lalum yelled, holding her hand aloft and chanting.

Farina grumbled. "Always letting me do the dirty work, eh?" she said.

Nevertheless, they wove in and out of the dragon's swipes. The best was huge, but the bastard was slow. Farina ended up flying in a spiral around Bahamut's body.

"Hyah!" screamed Lalum, pointing her finger at the metal body. A bolt of lightning struck her finger from the heavens, and leapt at Bahamut.

The dragon shrieked, but bore no wounds.

Farina retreated, as Bahamut's revenge took the form of a massive beam from its mouth. It struck where they duo had been, and instead hit the ground below.

"You alright?" yelled a voice from another Pegasus.

Farina turned her head to see Klein riding with a member of Farina's Wing. Alongside him, was a big man with an axe that she'd never seen before.

"Who's the new guy?" she called to Klein.

Klein pointed at the axe wielder, "That's Colby. He's here to help."

"Try to attack its head!" Colby shouted. "The metal plating is weakest there!"

Farina nodded, having nothing else to go off. "Hyah!" she spurred her mount forward to approach the dragon that had been watching the three Pegasi.

Bahamut began a barrage of beams from its mouth. Farina expertly navigated through them with few close calls.

She looked up to see Colby leaping from his Pegasus onto the dragon's shoulder. Seconds after he did so, the rider and her mount were killed by a stray attack.

"Damn!" Farina pulled up on the reigns. "Get ready, Lalum!"

Klein beat her to it though. Mere feet away from the dragon's head, Klein fired several arrows at Bahamut's eyes.

Something stopped the arrows from piercing the beast's eyes. A protective film of some sort, perhaps. They only served to annoy the dragon, enough so that it lashed out, mouth open.

With a fire in his eye, Klein leapt off the Pegasus with an arrow drawn. He shot it deep in the monster's throat before his yellow hair was swallowed by the metal dragon.

Fortunately, enough time was bought by the archer for Colby to make his way to the top of Bahamut's head. His axe began to glow orange, and the berserker slammed it down onto Bahamut's left eye.

The beast roared in pain, but before it could shake off Colby, the pirate did the same to the other eye.

The dragon threw Colby off, and took to the skies.

**『』**

Mant's teleportation magic sent them to the top of a very tall tower. Cath could see the capital of Valm below the edge, and the clouds just above her.

"He said we're looking for a piece of something," Matthew reiterated. He now held a silver sword that Mant had given to him.

"I'd hazard a guess that it's that," Leila answered, pointing at the pedestal at the opposite side of the tower. In front of it, a cloaked figure.

Hunter.

"Gods. You can never trust them," spoke the man beneath his veil.

"Step aside," Cormag declared, pointing his blade at the dark figure.

"Naga's voice…" he spoke in a carrying whisper. "It calls to me. Saying I'm to kill you…"

The five readied their weapons for a fight that would never come. The man threw back his hood, revealing silver hair. "Know that I am Knoll, Hunter of Darkness. Kill all of them, all of the gods. You cannot trust any of them!"

Darkness swelled from his right hand and trickled up his arm. It made his way to his face and covered the Hunter's nose and mouth. After a minute, Knoll collapsed, dead.

**『』**

Scythe met swords time and time again. Naga grit her teeth, wishing that her body had been faster. That was one thing Grima had over her, his true body.

"You've gotten slow!" he taunted, twirling his weapon into another attack.

Naga lashed forward, knocking her opposite back. She snarled, "I've barely begun."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27  
Limit Break**

**『』**

"I think we're in Plegia," Matthew remarked from atop the next tower.

Cath carefully bent over the edge. "You can't see very much, but I think I can spot desert."

"Three towers, three different countries it seems?" Cormag spoke.

"So it seems," Leila answered. "Valm, Plegia and probably Ylisse."

"Ferox never seems to get a share of the spotlight," Sain chuckled.

On the altar opposite the quintet, lay the gem they sought. The group had retrieved a dark orb from where Knoll had stood watch. This time, the jewel was sparkling with many bright colors.

Clouds began to gather, like before. A man appeared from the wind, in a flash of green.

The green haired Hunter smirked, "Cormag, it has been a while."

The blond knight drew his blade and growled, "Levin."

"Yours truly," he bowed.

"Maybe this one will end himself as well?" Sain whispered.

Levin threw his head back and laughed. His mirth resonated throughout the wind that billowed around him.

"You mean Knoll?" he spat. "That failure didn't have the will to adapt to our new mistress. He was a coward through and through."

Brandishing a hand of wind, Levin continued, "You will not find me as easy to take down."

**『』**

"Are you alright?" Yune asked, crouching down by Colby.

"I've been better," moaned the pirate. "That fall took a lot out of me."

"How on Mira did you survive?" demanded the god. Volug sniffed Colby's body in confusion as well.

Exhausted, he fished into his shit and pulled out a broken pendant. "Protective charm. The last charge, now it's used up."

"You brought that between worlds?" Yuna whispered, horrified.

Colby frowned, "It's saved my ass several times. I regret nothing."

"We'll talk about this later," she said, noticing several newcomers.

The two women Colby had fought alongside approached. The taller one with blue hair spoke, "You're Colby, right?'

"The one and only," groaned the big man. "Care to divulge your names as well?"

"Farina," she said. "Lalum," she uttered, pointing at the woman beside her.

"Charmed," Colby said, sitting up. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"Klein would have been proud to go the way he did," Lalum pipped up. "He wounded that beast grievously."

"Bahamut is blind and wounded, yes," Colby said. "But it will be back after it recovers from Klein's injury."

"Lovely," Farina groaned. "We're on the eve of battle, and a big dragon might be back to eat us all."

"You'll have help, though," Yune stood. "Take me to whoever is in charge."

**『』**

Matthew disappeared just in time to avoid the wind attack. Levin wasted no time in rebuffing his other opponents.

Cormag, the only one to have taken a direct hit, crashed into the ground near Matthew. He moaned in pain, and didn't move.

Cath hurled one of her knives at Levin, propelling it with her Coinshot powers. It nearly hit him, but the wind encompassing the Hunter knocked it off course.

"Coinshot! Your powers are useless!" Levin cackled, flinging a gust of wind at Cath.

Matthew's sister was hit, but thankfully not killed. The Hunter was prevented from continuing the onslaught by the combined efforts of Leila and Sain.

Leila's rapier attack was thrown off by the wind, the blade being too thin to stand stalwart. But Sain's lance was a different matter. The heavy shaft struck Levin in the shoulder, causing the Hunter to cry out.

A dagger of wind punched Sain in the gut. His armor protected him, but the green knight still felt the consequences as he flew backward.

Matthew appeared at Leila's side and took the brunt of the attack that Levin had aimed for her. The red cloaked man swore loudly as the wind cut his skin, leaving gashes in his arm and left side.

Leila shoved Matthew out of her way, a move Levin did not expect. Her rapier scored a scratch across his chest. His Hunter cloak got in the way of any serious damage.

Enraged, Levin conjured a mass of wind. The torrent swarmed Leila, threatening to cut her to pieces.

The Vanisher grabbed Leila out of harm's way. He reappeared ten feet away from the swirling mass of wind.

That left the Hunter's back exposed.

Cath slipped a knife across his neck and shouted, "Don't move!"

Without missing a beat, Levin's wind hit Cath, tearing her and the knife away from his neck. The Hunter spun on the spot and knocked Sain back again, denting his breastplate even further.

But the Lurcher reached out and grabbed Levin's metal clasps on his cloak, and pulled himself toward. Sain's lance angled to kill.

Levin swatted him away as soon as he felt the pull. The calculating green haired man turned on the spot again to deal with Matthew and Leila.

And found a flaming sword arcing down into his wounded shoulder.

The Hunter's cloak caught fire, and spread like the man's screams. Cormag stumbled backward, his weakened body failing him.

But the old knight did his job. Levin tried to use his magic to blow out the fire, but the oxygen only fanned the flames.

The burning man ran for some form of salvation. He found it in the act of leaping from the tower.

**『』**

"Frederick, what are you doing?" Lissa asked, her voice wavering.

Her servant fingered the knife in his hands, glowering at her. "Apologies, princess. The Frederick you know has been gone for some time."

Where brown hair sprouted from Frederick's head, red locks took residence. His masculine features turned to those of a younger woman, one Lissa recognized.

"Morgan," breathed Lissa.

"Sorry about the deception," Morgan replied, twisting the knife in her hands. "I just enjoy acting so much."

"Let me at least stand," Lissa said, rising from her chair with the aid of her cane. Surprisingly, Morgan allowed her to do so.

It turned out to be a mistake.

"I was just reunited with my sister, and you're planning to take that away?" Lissa spoke lowly. Morgan's eyes widened, and she hastened to use her weapon.

Lissa raised a hand and shouted the incantation. Bolts of lightning leapt from her fingertips and struck Morgan, tossing the redhead back and out of the room.

"Emmeryn is a shadow of the woman who you called sister!" taunted Morgan, preparing to flee.

Another bolt of thunder. "Don't speak her name," growled Lissa, flexing her fingers.

The Morph fled, her mission incomplete.

**『』**

Henry whistled softly at the barred window. One of his ravens flew to the edge of the stone and dropped something for him.

A key hit the ground, echoing throughout the room. The dead man cast an approving glance at Henry. "Color me impressed," he commented.

The Plegian man took the key and opened the door to his cell. The guard outside swung his sword at Henry.

The prisoner ducked out of the way, and tripped the soldier. The armored man fell to the ground, his helmet doing little to soften the fall.

Checking to see that his brother's man was indeed unconscious, Henry stepped out of the cell.

"Looks like you're free from both things now," the dead man remarked.

"Out of the prison, and free of you," breathed Henry. He giggled. Again, and again, and again, and—

Amidst the laughter, the dead man vanished from Henry's mind.

**『』**

_Five...four…three…two…one!_

Lara ran across the hall as the Frelian guards marched by. The castle was crawling with soldiers, all dressed in the green colors of Frelia.

Pelleas had gone for Hayden himself, who most likely resided in the throne room. Lara, on the other hand, searched for Innes.

She found him where she expected: his rooms. It had taken her hours of navigating the castle and avoiding the guards, but she finally found him.

It was well past sunset, and Innes lay in his bed with his wife, Guinevere.

Lara extracted her dagger from her belt, and stepped up beside the new prince of Valm. Raising it above her head, she drove it down into his throat.

Zephiel's sister woke up upon the scream, and looked at Lara with horror.

"Sorry," she apologized, and punched Guinevere in the face.


	28. Now or Never

**Chapter 28  
Now or Never**

**『』**

"I was wondering when you'd make your way here," Hayden spoke as Pelleas entered through the doors that lead to his throne room.

"All in good time," the High King replied, drawing his blade. Dark magic coursed down his arm and coalesced on the obsidian edges. The Slider began to walk toward his foe.

Hayden stood, and revealed a curved blade at his belt. The older man unsheathed it, and bent his legs.

Pelleas allowed his opponent no other time to prepare. He brought up a bubble of time, slowing it down for Hayden. From within the protection of his Mantle, the High King began to cask dark magic.

There was a slight problem with the strategy. Hayden was a Bloodmaker, and only certain attacks would even have a chance to kill him.

Unfortunately, Pelleas didn't know what worked, and what didn't. The time bubble fell and a blast of darkness raced from his hands, hitting Hayden with fury.

The usurper did nothing. The magic hit him, tearing apart his regal look as the darkness devoured his attire.

The High King grinned. But as the black smoke cleared, Hayden was not phased. His clothes were in shambles, clinging to him in some places with only string to help.

"Bloodmaker, remember?" Hayden chuckled. "Good luck killing me."

Hayden closed the distance between the two combatants, and drove his blade in a downward arc. Pelleas' caught Hayden's midswing. The dark flames bit into the curved sword, slicing it in half.

Hayden paused, holding his sword still. His eyes never left the half of a sword he now held in his hands.

Pelleas hurled his blade into Hayden's heart.

The green haired man turned his neck with a wry grin. "You missed," he grunted, and pushed himself off the sword.

Swinging around, Pelleas used momentum to deliver a crushing swing to Hayden's neck. The blade removed the usurper's head with a clean stroke.

"Well…I suppose that's always a failsafe," Pelleas chuckled as adrenaline coursed about his body.

The door behind him creaked open.

**『』**

Morgan found her targets alone in the castle. Roy, Heather and Lady Emmeryn all drew their weapons upon seeing her.

"Go on ahead," Roy commanded. "I'll handle her."

Heather and Emmeryn scampered off through one of the many halls. Morgan closed her eyes, and began to change.

When she opened them again, she was Zealot. A spear in her hand, and ready to fight.

**『』**

Pelleas watched King Joshua step through the doors, accompanied by a blue haired man.

The newcomer was dressed regally, much like a noble would be. He glanced around, taking in the body of Hayden laying before the High King.

"You'll do nicely," he chuckled. "You may call me Mant."

"What are you doing here with him?" Pelleas asked apprehensively.

"We have quite a bit to talk about," Mant said.

**『』**

Roy spun his blade in his hands and spoke, "Not looking so regal today, Zealot."

The Morph breathed heavily, and gripped the spear tighter.

"This won't even be a challenge," Roy muttered, crouching into a low stance.

Zealot made the first move. He jumped forward, his lance arched to kill. With difficulty, Roy batted it aside and scored a slice on his opponent's torso.

Given that the Morph was still in the air, the strike completely killed any chance of Zealot landing on his feet. He collapsed to the ground, body still weak from his prior task.

Roy walked over to the fallen man and touched his sword to the man's neck. "A pity," Roy said, "that you chose to fight against us. You have an incredible Mantle."

"Burn in hell," whispered Zealot.

"You first," offered Roy as he drove the blade through his enemy's neck.

**『』**

Heather entered the throne room, Emm only footsteps behind her.

Faval sat on the throne, crossbow in hand. It aimed directly at her, the black tipped bolt glinting menacingly.

Her father, ever the logical man, had one of the arrows that was made to combat her Mantle. Heather had helped develop it with the other Hands.

Bastard.

"Careful, daughter," Faval spoke. "Your shadows can't hide you from me."

"You've only one shot, old man," Heather countered. "If you miss, you're dead. You hit me, Emm will kill you."

"I do believe that killing one of you would have an adverse effect on the other," Faval Lowell replied, not moving an inch.

Heather threw back her head and laughed, "You're such a model father. You force Klein away to the battlefield, you push Claude away from you, and now you threaten my life. It's a wonder you weren't the death of Igrene."

Faval fired.

Being familiar with the arrow down to a science, Heather used her shadows to brush up against the shaft.

It changed direction, but not enough.

The Shadowstrider was no match for the arrow that burrowed into her shoulder.

Pain spidered through her shoulder and the rest of Heather's body. The only scream that filled the hall was hers.

There was no reaction from Emm.

Faval quickly began to reload, but was forced to abandon the effort. Emmeryn had drawn her sword and charged him.

Old man against inexperienced fighter. Faval blocked her attacks with the crossbow, but had no means to fight back aside from his blunt object. It was nowhere near as fast as Emm's sword.

The Baron finally dropped the crossbow when Emm slashed his arm. Following up with a kick, the Queen knocked Faval to the ground.

"You tried to kill your daughter," Emm said, deathly quiet.

Faval tried to respond, but Emm slammed the flat of her blade down on his stomach. He cried out, and was given a cut to the thigh.

"You tried to take my home."

She hefted her blade, and brought it down on Faval's hand, severing it. The screams meant nothing to her as Emm brought the tip down on the Baron's other thigh.

"You tried to kill my lover."

The sword bit off Faval's foot with a strike so hard it broke through bone. Heather's cries were no comparison to her father's.

"You killed my brother!"

The flat of the blade collided with Faval's forehead. His skull cracked, blood leaking out into his yellow hair.

Emm lifted the broken man by his collar. Miraculously, he remained awake. With a huff of disgust, she tossed him down the elevated stairs of the throne.

"Today is the last day your sins pollute my lands, and friends, and my family."

"Naga…" Faval croaked.

Emm sneered, "You're not worthy of her."

The sword cut into Faval's lung. At this point, the man was less than a minute of dying from blood loss.

"No…" Emm whispered as she saw his eyes grow faint. "No, you cannot die yet. First you must suffer!"

Stefan's weapon took off Faval's unharmed arm. His eyes snapped open, pain renewed tenfold.

Snarling, Emmeryn dropped the sword. She picked Faval up by the shoulders, and slammed his head on the stone ground.

_Bam!_

Again.

_Bam!_

Faval was dead.

_Bam!_

Anger.

_Bam!_

Blood.

_Bam!_

Revenge.

_Bam!_

Suffer!

Heather no longer recognized the woman in front of her.

**『』**

The capital of Plegia was not longer recognizable. Both furiously worked to tear each other apart for good. City streets were disfigured, and buildings dismantled.

Hugh, having split from Marisa when the battle began, found a target worthy of his talents.

Gangrel, King of Plegia.

He was dueling Lalum, thunder against fire.

Hugh leapt in, cascading with fire. Lalum, recognizing the General, moved to make room.

Gangrel gnashed his teeth, and hurled bolts of electricity at the newest fighter. Hugh flourished his arms and blocked every spark.

Lalum capitalized on the lack of attention on her, and sent a conflagration blazing his way.

Roaring, Gangrel produced a pulse of dark magic that trumped their combined fire. Both Hugh and Lalum were knocked off their feet.

That would have been the end of the two mages, had it not been for an unexpected arrival.

"Nyah ha ha ha!" cackled a white haired man. He was dressed in thin clothes of a prisoner, and had a deranged expression.

"Who's ready for some death?" he laughed.

**『』**

Colby spun his axe in his hand and stared down his opponent: General Steelwind.

The red armored soldier hefted his longsword menacingly and spoke, "At your ready."

Grunting, the pirate crept forward, holding his axe in a careful position. Everyone said Steelwind was quick, and it was no time to take those rumors idly.

As Colby blinked, Zelgius ran forward. As his eyes opened again, the longsword met Colby's axe in sparks.

"Speedy little bastard," growled Colby, his muscles tensing as he pushed against the attack.

"Apologies," Zelgius smiled. He had the decency to look guilty. "But to not play to my strengths would be to deny who I am."

"Can't argue with that," Coldy responded. "It'll make it more satisfying when I lop your head off."

Zelgius laughed, and jumped back.

**『』**

Henry's hand horded black magic to themselves. They radiated darkness that made even the fire less bright.

"Brother, must it come to this?" Gangrel pleaded, realizing that the odds no longer favored him.

"Stay out of this," Henry said, looking at the two Ylissean mages. He turned back to his kin, and shouted, "Shouldn't have tortured me, brother mine! Especially now that I have this!" The white haired man held up a worn tome.

"No!" screamed Gangrel, and hurled bolts at Henry.

Sidestepping, Henry cast a spell from the tome, Apocalypse. A dome encompassed Gangrel, blotting out his screams.

After a mere moment, Henry collapsed it. Gangrel, or his body, were nowhere to be seen.

"I win," Henry cackled.

**『』**

Marisa drew the flamberge and said, "Leave him to me."

Her soldiers she'd taken departed, leaving the Mantled General alone on the outer wall of the city. Alone…with the last Cornerstone.

"Sirius!" she called out, grabbing his attention.

The man in black turned to see who called. Finding her alone, he told his guards to wait back. Handing off Gradivus to one of them, he drew the sword at his side.

"Lady Marisa, you do me the honor of giving us this chance to fight again," he said, not bothering to correct her on the choice of name.

The two drew closer. They extended their blades, letting them cross without conflict for a moment.

Then they fought.

**『』**

Colby almost laughed in relief when he dented Steelwind's armor. Instead, Colby swore as he narrowly dodged the General's next attack.

To make matters worse for the pirate, a gauntlet smashed into his stomach and knocked him off his feet.

"Not bad," Zelgius complimented, before bringing his sword down.

It smashed into the ground beside Colby's head. Volug had entered perfectly, and attacked by climbing on the General's back.

Yune helped Colby up while Zelgius was distracted. "I mustn't reveal myself here, not when Naga and Grima are fighting. It could draw them."

"Anything you could do would help," grunted the tired pirate.

Through her delicate hands, Yune's magic revitalized Colby. "I'll bless your weapon as well…if you can hit his armor, he's as good as dead."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Colby rumbled. His axe began to glow a faint orange as it thrummed with power.

Zelgius threw off Volug, sending the wolf into one of the buildings' walls. He hit with a crack, and transformed back into a human.

Yune ran to his side, and left Colby to deal with Steelwind.

Zelgius ran forward in a zigzag fashion and executed an upward arching blow. Colby's axe met it and stopped the blade without much trouble.

The General frowned as he was pushed back.

Colby's arms felt the power Yune had given him. He began to spin his axe in one hand, something that shouldn't have even been possible. It began to spin so fast that it began an orange glow.

Zelgius charged forward, as fast as a red comet. His sword was above his head, and he jumped at the pirate.

Colby swung his axe upward at the final moment, and tore Zelgius' chest open through his armor.

**『』**

The Hunter held her hand up, and light gathered. She looked frail, silhouetted by the brightness. Everything became dark on top of the tower.

Matthew became covered in the shadow that Julia cast. He saw Cormag cover his eyes, despite the danger. The Hunter was blinding.

"Distract her if you can," Leila whispered, and scampered off.

"Cormag! Cath!" shouted Matthew.

From his obstructed vision, Cormag lobbed fire at the Hunter. He couldn't see, even if he hadn't been covering his eyes. Cath launched one of her knives with similar success.

"Graaaaaaaaaah!" Sain shouted as he charged forward and stabbed with his lance. He was nowhere close to Julia.

"You're all so blind," she said, her voice carrying above Sain. "Just like your faith in gods. Mant is a trickster, and will betray you."

"Sounds like your god!" Sain challenged. "Or is it gods?"

"I serve Naga," seethed Julia, turning on the green knight. "For that, you will die first."

He would have, too. But Leila stabbed the Hunter with her rapier. "No one told you I could see in the dark, huh?"

The Hunter had no words, for she died before she fell of the rapier.

"That's the last one then," Cormag said, pointing at the pedestal while blinking.

"Time to find out what these things do," Matthew smirked.


	29. Judgement

**Chapter 29  
Judgement**

**『』**

Naga drove her two blade into Grima's scythe, knocking the weapon from his hands.

Exhausted, the god fell onto his back. The bald figured breathed heavily as he floated in the sky.

"You've lost, Grima," Naga spoke in a chilled voice.

"Heh," he spat, leaning up. Moments later, the Avvenire was at his neck. "Fine, I submit. But tell me, what is your plan for this world?"

Naga didn't move the sword, and the Prima was a wrong movement away from lacerating Grima. Still, she took the time to answer, "This world is poisoned. Free will has contaminated the humans like a plague, sending them into fits of their desires."

The god smirked with contempt, "I will purge it of its people, and start anew."

Grima sighed, "And I assume you mean to take my power? You know the costs."

"I am prepared to pay," Naga said evenly. "But I will first crush Mant and Yune. They have no place in my new world."

The bald god bent his head back, exposing his neck. "So be it," he uttered.

Naga shoved the Avvenire through her counterpart's neck. The god didn't scream, and didn't feel pain. All Grima felt was…nothingness.

**『』**

Mira held its breath. A calm swept over the world, bringing a foreboding worse than any conflict around the globe.

It passed through Valm, sending chills through Pelleas.

It passed through Ylisse, making Heather glance over her shoulder as she warily held Emmeryn.

It passed through Plegia, lulling the chaos to a stop.

The towers that had sprouted from the ground began to glow. Three beacons of light, heralding the end of what was known.

The sun above began to grow. It filled the sky, bringing with it a field of heat all too strong for the people of Mira.

Yune and Mant worked fast, but they were only two beings. There was only so much they could do.

Mira became nothing.

Its people became nothing.

But free will was not so easily subdued.

**『』**

Naga opened her eyes to blackness and snarled. Her work was not done yet.

"Yune…Mant…you foolish traitors," Naga spoke to no one. Her subordinates had ruined a perfect plan.

"You may have saved a few tools, but you will not be able to beat my weapons." She waved a hand, and from nothing, a human appeared in front of her.

He was completely new, the first human Naga had created since the dawn of time.

The god extended her hand to her creation, and bestowed the powers of destruction. Naga could not wield Grima's power yet. Not without consequence.

Thus, her vessel for them.

"Awake," she commanded.

Her servant opened his eyes. The glowed a ghostly purple.

Behind him, the Hunters Naga had spared appeared. The knelt in front of their master.

"My servant is your new master," she commanded. Naga handed the Prima to her creature, and he willingly took it.

"Speak your name, servant."

The ghostly eyed man opened his mouth slowly, as if unsure how it worked. Finally, he said: "...Renault."

"Renault, your sole purpose is to destroy the two gods who have betrayed me. My Hunters will kill the humans."

"Understood." The creature held the Prima tightly in his hand, a brutal look on his face.


	30. The Price of Freedom is Steep

**Chapter 30  
The Price of Freedom is Steep**

**『』**

The game began as soon as they appeared.

Pelleas stumbled as he came out of the trance Mant had put him in. A wild fire in his eyes, he gave a searching glance about.

A black and white checkered floor greeted him. Nothing else could be seen, save the ghostly vapor that had replaced the sky.

"It's a chessboard," Lara said in wonder.

Pelleas glanced at her, not having noticed her appearance. Now he could see a multitude of people flitting into existence, from regally dressed to common soldiers that wore the garb of Ylissean and Valmese alike.

A tauntingly familiar voice crept up on the High King. "It seems we've been gathered here for a fight. And we've brought the entire war with us."

Rennac walked up, L'Arachel at his side. King Joshua was close behind, keeping his distance.

**『』**

"I can see familiar faces among these soldiers," Emm whispered to Heather. "I think they come from the front."

The noblewoman nodded, still left shaken from Emm's display of brutality against her father.

Lissa spoke up, "I had a dream before I awoke here." She leaned heavily on her cane, with a spell tome under her other arm. "It told of a final fight, between the forces of salvation and Naga."

" _Against_ Naga?" Roy questioned.

"Time will tell," Heather reasoned.

**『』**

"We all had it," Sirius surmised. "All the same dream."

"Courtesy of whom, I wonder," Hugh followed up. He looked over the massive chessboard.

Marisa joined him, her hand on the pommel of the flamberge. "If this is a chessboard, and we're some of the pieces…who's the opponent?"

"I suspect we'll find out," Sirius pointed at the beginnings of a tear through the vapor on the other side of the board.

Six soldiers stepped out, garbed in cloaks that bore an odd mark. Legions of Fiends followed them.

**『』**

"This is humanity's last stand," Yune uttered, drawing all attention onto her.

"I beg your pardon?" Canas asked.

"Naga means to destroy the world and begin anew—without humanity. As a result, myself and another god have brought you all here to this protected realm," Yune continued.

Farina rolled her eyes, fear sending shivers coursing in her body. "Seems like we're a little less than protected." The Fiends began to approach.

"Naga is trying to kill what is left of humanity. I am trying to save it," Yune said. "We must survive as long as we can, in hopes that Mant and his chosen can killed the god herself."

"Lovely," Henry giggled.

"And here I thought having a god here would make a difference," Colby muttered, earning him a look from Lalum.

**『』**

Robin stopped marching, and the Fiends ceased as well.

"They barely have ten thousand soldiers," he chuckled. "I expected a challenge."

The Hunter turned, and addressed his cohorts. "Wolt, Lyn, Bartre, Devdan and Ishtar. Hunt for the leaders, and let the Fiends busy themselves with the common humans. If the leadership collapses, so does the army."

He turned back, and began to charge.

**『』**

Yune began to glow with light. A moment later, she was wicked, wingless dragon the size of ten men. Along, she charged into the Fiends.

Humanity's remaining members joined her, meeting the Fiends with war cries only certain doom could summon.

The Hunters dispersed, each identifying specific groups of individuals that held the spark of leadership.

The game of fate climaxed.

**『』**

A hulking man stepped up to Pelleas. He was almost two feet taller than the High King.

"I am Bartre," he said simply, the rumble in his voice conveying the ferocity that the axe wielder no doubt possessed.

Joshua meandered forward and drew his blade, "At your ready." He pushed Pelleas aside.

The gargantuan man swung his axe with velocity that Pelleas had never witnessed. It cleaved Joshua completely in half.

Lara, not sparing a single thought for the dead King, lashed at Bartre's back with a pair of knives. Her blades cut through his muscled skin with difficulty, but succeeded in diverting his attention.

As the giant man turned, Rennac was there to imitate the same move Lara had performed. His knife blazed a red trail over Bartre's back.

Roaring, the Hunter began to spin in a circle, his axe outstretched. A miniature vortex began to coalesce around him. Lara and Rennac leapt backward to evade the now immobile man's zone of destruction.

A pulse of darkness grew at Bartre's feet. The Hunter, unable to break out of his committed action, was swallowed by the hole.

**『』**

Lissa shot a bolt of lightning at the green haired woman. Lyn danced aside, the attack skimming her back. She threw a taunting look at the crippled woman.

Emmeryn attempted to impact the fight, swinging her sword at Lyn. The Hunter proved to be much too quick, and disarmed the Queen. A breath later, and Lyn's sword was at her neck.

Roy paused, midstrike. His blade almost at _Lyn's_ neck, Roy gritted his teeth in anger.

Luckily, Heather had no such problem. Shadows formed a barrier between Emm's skin and the Hunter's steel. Lyn attempted to breach the shield, but Heather's knife found her eye instead.

**『』**

Wolt hardly had time to draw back his bow before Sirius broke it in half with his blade. Weaponless, the archer leapt back to safety.

Marisa used her Mantle to switch places with the Hunter, placing Wolt right in range of Hugh's fire magic. Moments later, the green haired man began to scream.

Devdan approached far more warily. His lance and shield were ready for Sirius when the fair haired man lashed out. His thin blade connected with the shield, imparting a scratch across the metal.

Flames kept the Hunter at bay, preventing him from making a counter attack. Marisa wasn't hindered by the inferno, however. She dived through the conflagration with practiced ease, her sword ready to bite.

Devdan had not expected such audacity, and he paid for it with his life.

**『』**

Colby broke Ishtar with his axe, ending the rain of lightning that had terrorized the group he was with.

That left Robin, leader of the Hunters. He had arrived just as Ishtar's life extinguished.

Volug dashed up and bit at Robin. The Hunter brandished his arm, and sent the wolf into the ground with purple fire burning the Mantled's fur. With no healer is sight, Volug was doomed without a miracle.

Canas swept his arms and conjured an eldritch inferno of his own. Robin shied back, rebuffing Canas' advance with dark magic of his own.

Lalum and Farina attempted a pincer maneuver on the Hunter. Flames from one side, and a sharp lance on the other.

A maniacal glint appeared in robin's eye, and he unleashed a torrent of darkness while blocking Canas' attack. Farina's Pegasus flew above the attack, saving her from certain death.

Lalum was not so lucky.

Her body was engulfed by the black. After ten seconds, all that remained was a blackened skeleton.

Farina screamed in fury, and spurred her Pegasus on a suicide charge. The winged horse flew nervously down towards the Hunter.

The flames that fought Canas morphed into a sword, and cut both the Pegasus and Farina in half.

Which left Robin open to Henry. The wily mage wrapped his arms around the Hunter's head, and jerked forcibly, breaking Robin's neck.

**『』**

Marisa looked up from her latest Fiend kill at the sound of the roar. It was familiar, a noise she had heard not too long ago.

Bahamut broke through the tear in the vapor. Blind in both eyes, the beast screeched in fury. From its back, a lone figure leapt down to the ground.

The Mantled General sighed, and began to make her way towards the new arrival.


	31. Dusk Over an Old World

**Chapter 31  
Dusk Over an Old World**

**『』**

Yune, in dragon form, collided with Bahamut. She pushed the large dragon out of the way of the humans. Only Colby followed her, reckless as usual.

Marisa, with Hugh in tow, only had eyes for the man who'd dropped from the dragon. Let the god fight Bahamut, she reasoned. The Mantled General could beat a man.

"Burn him when I switch with him," Marisa whispered to Hugh. The mage nodded, flexing his fingers in preparation.

The soldier, who slaughtered three men in a single blow, turned his gaze to Marisa. He withdrew his broadsword from one of the bodies and fixed the woman with a lifeless glare.

It almost seemed…inhuman. Perhaps it was.

Roaring, the teal haired man began to run in Marisa's direction. She activated her Mantle without a second thought.

Blinking, she looked over her shoulder.

The soldier seemingly had expected her switch, and had continued on toward Hugh. The mage incinerated him, but suffered a devastating blow that sent him down to the ground, but not dead.

Miraculously, the soldier stepped out of the flames unharmed. His skin, once burned, reknitted itself. He began to walk toward Hugh's beaten body.

_No._

Marisa ran to her comrade's side. Her feet could not carry her fast enough to stop the man from raising his sword and—

Sirius caught the blade with his. The soldier seemed surprised for the briefest of moments, then hardened his stare. In cold, ethereal words, he spoke, "Stand back."

The Mantled General arrived and slashed at the man's back. The warrior slithered out of harm's way, letting the blade fly by without touching him.

"I was created to destroy humanity," he said, voice barely fluctuating. "I, Renault, servant of Naga, will be your end."

"I think I've had enough of these servants of gods," Marisa grumbled.

"You and me both," chuckled a man, flinging a ball of darkness at Renault.

The High King of Valm stepped up beside her. He turned toward Marisa, and in a low voice said, "Get me an opening."

Sirius flung himself into the fray, weaving a web of strokes that would have impressed Lloyd. Renault caught most of them, and those he missed were healed as soon as they happened.

Marisa circled around to his back and engaged Renault from his weak side. But the soldier had other plans. He reached out and _grabbed_ Marisa's blade, and ripped it out of her hands. He delivered a consecutive kick to Sirius midsection, knocking him off his feet.

And gave Pelleas the opening he was hoping for.

Renault was surrounded by and orb of darkness. Pelleas held the shape with his hands, physically straining himself in the process. Sweat cascaded down his back as the sheer tension began to overwhelm him.

Finally, the darkness burst open and flung back at Pelleas. He screamed as the devouring blaze covered his clothes.

Shaking his head, Renault snarled, "I was made by a god. You think a little magic can stop me?"

Bahamut roared, throwing Yune to the ground. A crater broke in the ground, sending shards of rock into the battlefield.

"You'd have to kill Naga herself if you wanted to stop me," Renault laughed. "And _you_ can't kill a god."

**『』**

"Excellent," Mant said as the party handed him the three orbs. "I can trap Naga with these, long enough for me to subdue her."

He looked at the five with a slight grin. They were suspended in a bubble of light amidst black. "Allow me to let you witness the birth of a new age. Let me show you how to kill a god."

"How humble," Matthew muttered inaudibly.

In a flash, they were gone.

And in the next instant, clouds.

The sun was beginning to set. Or at least, that's what it appeared to be. Mant had said Mira had been destroyed, so what they saw could have been an illusion.

Mant stood in front of the five, with the bubble of energy still in place. And in front of him, resided Naga.

"You were a fool to come here," spoke the female god. If gods even had genders, that is.

The god of Mantles chuckled, and raised the three orbs in one hand. Light emitted from the glass, and blinded all in the vicinity.

When the light cleared, Naga was on her knees. Her appearance grew unstructured, as if even seeing her had become a challenge.

"You made one mistake," gloated Mant as he walked up to her. "Those orbs? You created them to suppress Grima. And then you went and absorbed his power. Turns out, now they work on you."

"Damn…you!" wailed the god in weakness. The Avvenire and Prima dropped from her hands, glowing in energy.

Mant scooped them up, meeting no resistance from Naga. Twirling both in his hands, he placed them at her neck.

"I'll have to disagree with you," he said. "I think _you_ were the fool."

With the style only an executioner possessed, Mant decapitated the god.

Power exploded outward from the body of Naga. The bubble around Matthew and company kept them safe.

Once the tide ceased, Mant released the five from his protective shield. They fell to the ground as he admired his two new swords.

Cormag was the only one to speak. "What happens now?"

"Mira is gone," Mant said, running his eyes down the Avvenire. "There is nothing I can do about that. Yune and myself must create a new world for humanity."

He turned on the party, and Matthew felt an uneasiness settle in his stomach.

"It'll be a glorious new realm," he said. "But first, I must concede. Naga was right about one thing: free will. It's dangerous to leave such a tool in the hands of an irrational species, like yourselves."

Cormag seemingly connected the dots quicker than the rest. "You would make us mindless slaves?" he burst, outraged.

"Come now, you'll still be alive. That's better than what Naga had planned," Mant said, cocking his head to the side.

"We helped you so we would survive this ordeal, not become your servants!" Leila spat.

Mant shrugged, "Alive you will be. Free will is simply too dangerous to us gods."

"I'll show you dangerous," Sain said, his voice holding uncharacteristic contempt.

The god laughed mockingly.

"Matthew, I say we prove to this arrogant bastard just how strong humans are," Cath snarled.

Matthew raised his blade, and said, "Mant, you've signed your death warrant."

"What can mortals do against gods?" Mant shook his head as the party of five charged the deity.

**『』**

Heather landed the final blow on account of a sudden lack of action from Renault.

Bodies of their strongest fighters were strewn about. Some, merely weakened and regaining strength. Some, incapacitated and awaiting the healers' services. And some, dead.

That did not stop all the able from cheering as the cut across Renault's neck did not heal. It bled and bled, pouring a grey blood unseen to humanity.

Colby returned to the group, holding a bloody axe. When Heather sent him a questioning look, he gestured to the body of Bahamut behind him.

Yune, who had reverted from her dragon form, abruptly turned her head to the sky and screamed, "NO!"

They all looked at the god in confusion.

"You bastard, you'll ruin everything!" she shouted.

**『』**

It was no hidden factor that Mant was enormously powerful. He displayed his power by swinging both of his blades, sending energy waves from the blades of future and past.

Matthew vanished out of the way, unable to see if his companions had been as fortunate as he was.

Mant began to grow until he was the size of five people. Matthew reappeared behind him, drawing the god's attention.

"Using a Mantle?" Mant laughed, his voice echoing through the area. "I am the _god_ of Mantles!"

The Avvenire was swung towards the Vanisher. When Matthew tried to disappear, nothing happened.

"Dammit!" swore Matthew. "He's blocked out Mantles!"

Sain responded by hurling his lance at the god's exposed back. It _plinked_ harmlessly off, leaving no mark on the deity's skin.

But the god did feel it.

Mant whirled around, sweeping both blades across the ground. The party scattered like mice, ducking, or in Cormag's case jumping, the swords and trying to work their Mantles at the same time.

How they had come to depend on them.

"You cannot stop a god!" Mant roared, hitting Cormag with the flat of the massive blades. They'd grown with his body, and had become blunt instruments rather than edged weapons.

Using the distraction Cormag provided, Cath tried climbing the god's leg. With a casual shake, he knocked her off and swatted her aside.

Sain attempted likewise, but met the same fate. Worse, in fact, as he was bluntly kicked by the god. Thanks to his armor, he evaded death, albeit barely.

Then Leila was hit by the Prima. She was thrown off her feet some distance away.

She didn't get up.

Matthew's eyes flared, an anger bubbling within him. He screamed her name, hoping to illicit a response from the woman he loved. Silence, filled to the brim with Mant's laughter, answered his call.

His fists tightened so much that blood began to pool in his hands. A familiar, cold fire washed over hum.

Matthew Snapped.

He disappeared, flitting out of vision. The next moment, he stood on Mant's shoulder and lashed out at his neck.

No effect, but the god was suitably surprised. He dropped the Avvenire to swat Matthew like a fly.

The Vanisher was gone before the hand hit, and he reappeared once the hand had passed, now holding the Avvenire.

Like a general administrating an execution, Matthew vertically stabbed Mant in the neck. The god threw his head back, golden blood pouring out from the wound.

All went dark.


	32. Dawn Over a New World

**Chapter 32  
Dawn Over a New World**

**『』**

"A new beginning is in order, I think," Yune said as she sat on the edge of the crumbling chessboard.

Of all people, Colby had the seat next to her. All of the other humans had gone, swept up in Yune's power. They would awake in a new world, free from the shackles that had bound Mira.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Colby said, ignoring her comment brusquely. "Everyone else lost their Mantles when Mant was defeated. Everyone, except for me."

"You're a special person, Colby," Yune said. "Whomever architected this entire spectrum that we live in must have had a hand in creating you. It's the only explanation as to why you're so different from everyone born in Mira. So in short, I have no idea."

"Lovely," he grumbled, leaning forward. "So I guess it's back to wandering aimlessly through worlds then?"

"Not quite," Yune grimaced. "Mant has a few loose ends we need to tie up. In his last moments, he hid the Avvenire and Prima from me in another world. I need you to find them, and destroy them."

"You can't do that?"

"I am a god, but even gods have their limits. I am confined to this world, unable to open anything more than a crack between this and the next." Yune looked off into the never ending void. "You are something else. You can be my weapon I let loose to end Mant once and for all."

"Terrific," Colby got up and stretched. "Let's begin and get this over with."

Yune stood as well. She whistled, and a familiar wolf came to her side. "Get on," she extended a hand to the pirate.

**『』**

A white city.

Marisa blinked as she sat up, certain she had been fooled. She had, for it had been a castle she was inside.

Hugh lay next to her, coming to a familiar form of wakefulness.

"Did we…win?" he asked, groggily running a hand through his hair.

"I…think we did," Marisa said. "Come on, let's figure out where we are."

**『』**

Henry woke in a tavern, as if he'd spent the night drinking.

But he hadn't, for battle had been the only thing he'd been drunk on. He wobbled to his feet, disoriented by the new setting.

Sun shinned through the window, warmly inviting him outside. The prisoner, who had spent months in a cell, was only too happy to oblige.

The bright blinded him as he stepped outside.

**『』**

"I know I've changed a lot," Emmeryn whispered as they walked through the empty streets.

Heather nodded, "You have. It will take getting used to…but I think I can fall in love again with who you've become."

"But I'm a monster. You saw what I did to your father," protested Emm.

The noblewoman shook her head, "If we are where I think we are, then this is the perfect place for new beginnings."

They found Roy and Lissa nearby, and the four of them stepped out into the street to greet their new surroundings.

**『』**

"I apologize for leaving," Rennac said. "And for betraying you."

"Did you ever think of me as anything less than a friend?" Pelleas asked.

"Never… I did what I had to do. I swore an oath," he muttered.

"Then I forgive you," Pelleas said simply. He let his daughter lead the way out of the cave. L'Arachel busied herself with fawning over Rennac, who was at a loss for words at his friend's acceptance.

"I sense we'll need to cooperate in the coming months," Pelleas said, as the exited the mouth of the cave. "We're somewhere else…somewhere new."

**『』**

Sirius helped the older mage up. Canas murmured his thanks, and accompanied the soldier up to the surface.

They exited the sewer. Sirius looked around at the vaguely familiar buildings in wonder.

Canas polished his monocle, and mimicked the same sense of amazement.

It was Ylisstol.

**『』**

"Leila!" shouted Matthew as he rejoined the land of the awake.

The purple clad woman moaned next to him. Her eyes were shut in irritation.

"Leila," he breathed.

"I can see the shadows. My Mantle is gone," Leila said, warily opening her eyes. "It's…extremely odd."

A canopy of trees extended over them, shedding shade down in multitudes. Not too far away, a green knight fell out of the tree.

"Sain!" Matthew exclaimed.

"I was trying to see where we are," Sain groaned in pain. "I didn't make it that high."

"Typical Sain," Cath chuckled as she stepped out from under a tree. "About time you woke up, brother."

"We ought to move, if we want to figure out where we are," Cormag nodded. He sat on the other side of the tree Matthew and Leila were under.

The five fell into the grouping they typically kept. Matthew and Leila at the front, with Cormag and Sain at the back while Cath switched between the two groups randomly.

It did not take them long to exit the forest. And when they did, they found themselves on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a white city.

"That looks like…" Matthew trailed off.

"Ylisstol," supplied Leila.

A ghostly apparition appeared before them, hovering in the air off of the cliff.

" _Thank you,"_ she said. _"If not for your efforts, Mant would have destroyed humanity for all that it is. For that, I have birthed a new world for humanity._

" _All of the soldiers who survived the battle against Naga's forces are here as well. I've scattered you all about, making sure everyone has the means to live. Though now, I shall withdraw."_

The apparition smiled at them, _"Ylisstol is the gift I give to the ones who served the most important roles. A reminder of Mira…and everything that has happened."_

She disappeared like a breath of blue smoke.

" _A world of free will has no need for a god. Good bye."_ The voice could be heard in Matthew's head, and he knew everyone in this new world had heard it.

The light touch of Leila's hand slipped into his.

He smiled, and turned to look at his companions. With a grin, Matthew said, "A whole new world to explore. Sounds like an adventure, eh?"

Cormag chuckled.

Sain gave him a thumbs up.

Cath grinned.

And Leila squeezed his hand tightly.

It was their free will to choose their destiny. And no one was there to take it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this story isn't perfect. After I finish it, I will go back and make necessary edits, from fixing character arcs to extending/shrinking descriptions. Your input is appreciated.


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